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THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 
UNIVERSITY  OF 
NORTH  CAROLINA 
Al  CHAPEL  HILL 


ENDOWED  BY  THE 
DIALECTIC  AND  PHILANTHROPIC 


SOCIETIES 

BJ1581 

.H15 

1880 

This  book  is  due  at  the  LOUIS  R.  WILSON  LIBRARY  on  the 
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https://archive.org/details/royalpathoflifeoOOhain 


T  H  E 


OR, 


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BY 


T.  L.  HAINES,  A.  M., 

AND 

L.  W.  YAGGY,  M.  S., 

AUTHOR  OF  "OUR  HOME  COUNSELOR." 


WESTERN  PUBLISHING  HOUSE,  CHICAGO. 

SOUTHWESTERN  PUBLISHING  HOUSE,  NASHVILLE,  TENN. 
EASTERN  PUBLISHING  HOUSE,  PHILADELPHIA,  PA. 
"WEVER  &  CO.,  KANSAS  CITY,  MO. 
W.  C.  KINO,  SPRINGFIELD,  MASS. 
EUREKA  PUBLISHING  nOUSE,  SACRAMENTO,  CAL. 
LONE  STAR  PUBLISHING  CO.,  HOUSTON,  TEXAS. 


1880. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1876,  by 
L.  W.  Yaggy  and  T.  L.  Haines, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington,  D.  C» 


The  subject-matter  of  this  book,  Success  and  Hap- 
piness, has  been  the  consideration  of  every  eminent  pen, 
from  the  days  of  Solomon  to  the  present.  To  say  any 
thing  strictly  new  would  be  impossible ;  nor  would  we 
presume  that  our  knowledge  and  experience  would  be 
as  valuable  as  the  maxims  of  the  wise  and  the  sublime 
truths  which  have  become  a  part  of  the  standard  litera- 
ture. The  best,  therefore,  that  any  one  can  expect  to 
do  is  to  recombine  the  experience  of  the  past,  and 
compile  such  thoughts  and  extracts  as  have  chimed  in 
with  the  testimony  of  earnest  and  aspiring  minds,  and 
offer  them  in  a  novel  and  fascinating  form.  In  the  words 
of  the  poet : 

"  We  have  gathered  posies  from  other  men's  flowers, 
Nothing  but  the  thread  that  binds  them  is  ours." 

In  life  there  is  a  Royal  Path.  Alas!  that  so  many 
not  being  urged  to  seek  life's  prizes,  fail  to  find  them. 
It  is  hoped  that  this  book  shall  be  a  counselor  to  those 
who  have  become  indifferent  to  life's  purposes ;  a  comfort 
to  those  who  have  long  traveled  on  this  Royal  Path ; 
and  if  it  shall  serve  to  awaken  the  slumbering  genius 
within  the  youth,  stimulate  and  impel  them  to  noble 
thoughts  and  actions,  and  lead  them  on  to  honor,  success 
and  happiness,  the  authors  will  consider  themselves  amply 
repaid  for  their  labor. 


§fou  cannot  tnrtn :  iheif  take  ye  up  the  load, 
Jli?/  nonrs  to  tread  or  have  the  unktowq  wars, 
ffe  must  go  o*c\  it,  meet  p?  w&d  pe  mag. 
(^i\d  up  gon\  souls  withitf  gou  to  the  **.*d, 
^nQels  and $ettow=>syirits  hid gou  speed! " 

—  Butler ; 


0 


Life   7 

Man  and  Woman  14 

Mother  29 

Children  37 

Youth  41 

Home  48 

Family  Worship  58 

Home  Influence  63 

Home  Amusements  69 

To  Young  Men   74 

To  Young  Women   82 

Daughter  and  Sister  88 

Associates   93 

Influence  101 

Habit    ..102 

Company  _  108 

Force  of  Character  111 

Integrity   116 

Poor  Boys  and  Eminence  120 

Occupation   126 

Employment   132 

True  Greatness   134 

Idleness  .137 

Education  142 

Opportunity   i_)8 

Spare  Moments   150 

Books    154 

Reading  162 

Terse  verance  170 

Pluck  178 

Self  Reliance   180 


Labor  185 

Energy  193 

Luck  and  Pluck  .196 

Purpose  and  Will  207 

Courage  213 

Little  Things  218 

Economy  227 

Farm  Life  23$ 

Success  238 

Industry  .246 

Honesty  _  .249 

Character  254 

Principle  and  Right.  .259 

Value  of  Reputation  .262 

Fame  264 

Ambition   .268 

Avarice  270 

Gambling.  272 

Temper    277 

Anger  __   281 

Obstinacy  287 

Hypocrisy  289 

Fretting  and  Grumbling  294 

Fault  Finding  299 

Envy  _  _  .  304 

Slander   309 

Vanity  315 

Pride  316 

Fops  and  Dandies.  323 

Fashion  327 

Dress  ....  ,  334 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


Church  Dress  3_|o 

Manners   342 

The  True  Gentleman  --350 

Wit     354 

Truth  357 

Judgment.  362 

Patience  365 

Contentment  -370 

Cheerfulness  _  376 

Happiness  382 

Gratitude  385 

Hope   388 

Charity   _  393 

Kindness  .396 

Friendship  403 

Courtship  408 

Flirting  413 

Bachelors  416 

Influence  of  Matrimony  419 

Advantage  of  Matrimony  427 

Young  Men  and  Matrimony.. .430 
Young  Ladies  and  Matrimony. 437 

Love   «  444 

Marriage  451 

The  Conjugal  Relation  459 

Husband  and  Wife  ....465 


Joy  474 

Beauty  476 

Music  483 

Honor  _  _  490 

Genius  and  Talent  492 

Thinkers  497 

Benefactors  or  Malefactors.. 503 

Trials  of  Life  508 

Sickness  512 

Tears  515 

Sorrow  518 

Sorrowing  for  the  Dead  526 

Adversity  --530 

Debt  534 

Failure  --538 

Despair  ---542 

Stepping-stones  __  544 

Prayer  547 

There  is  a  God  552 

The  Bible   555 

Religion  --562 

Immortality  _  565 

Doing  Good  567 

Well  Doing  --573 

Old  Age  586 

Death  .  .  .......... ...-,590 


THE 


log  a  I  fatlj  of 


We  point  to  two  ways  in  life,  and  if  the  young  man 
and  maiden,  whose  feet  are  lingering  in  soft  green 
meadows  and  flowery  -  paths,  will  consider  these  two 
ways  soberly  and  earnestly,  before  moving  onward, 
and  choose  the  one  that  truth  and  reason  tell  them 
leads  to  honor,  success,  and  happiness,  they  have 
wisely  chosen  the  "Royal  Path  of  Life."  The  other 
way  is  too  well  known  to  need  description.  It  is  a 
sad  thing,  after  the  lapse  of  twenty  years,  to  find  our- 
selves amid  ruined  hopes; — to  sit  down  with  folded 
hands  and  say,  "  Thus  far  life  has  been  a  failure " ! 
Yet,  to  how  many  is  this  the  wretched  summing  up 
at  the  end  of  a  single  score  of  years  from  the  time 
that  reason  takes  the  helm!  Alas!  that  so  few  who 
start  wrong,  ever  succeed  in  finding  the  "  Royal  Path"; 
life  proving,  even  to  its  last  burdened  years  a  millstone 
about  the  neck. 

Dear  reader,  life  is  a  u  Royal  Path,"  and  to  you  it 


s 


LIFE. 


shall  be  a  millstone  about  your  neck,  or  a  diadem  on 
your  brow.  Decide  at  once  upon  a  noble  purpose, 
then  take  it  up  bravely,  bear  it  off  joyfully,  lay  it  down 
triumphantly.  Your  greatest  inheritance  is  a  purpose 
in  pursuit  of  which  you  will  find  employment  and  hap- 
piness, for 

"  The  busy  world  shoves  angrily  aside 
The  man  who  stands  with  arms  akimbo  set 
Until  occasion  tells  him  what  to  do ; 
And  he  who  waits  to  have  his  task  marked  out 
Shall  die  and  leave  his  errand  unfulfilled." 

Life  is  not  mean — it  is  grand.  If  it  is  mean  to  any? 
he  makes  it  so.  God  made  it  glorious.  Its  channel 
He  paved  with  diamonds.  Its  banks  He  fringed  with 
flowers.  He  overarched  it  with  stars.  Around  it  He 
spread  the  glory  of  the  physical  universe — suns,  moons, 
worlds,  constellations,  systems— all  that  is  magnificent 
in  motion,  sublime  in  magnitude,  and  grand  in  order 
and  obedience.  God  would  not  have  attended  life  with 
this  broad  march  of  grandeur,  if  it  did  not  mean  some- 
thing. He  would  not  have  descended  to  the  blade 
of  grass,  the  dew-drop,  and  the  dust-atom,  if  every 
moment  of  life  were  not  a  letter  to  spell  out  some  word 
that  should  bear  the  burden  of  a  thought.  How  much 
life  means,  words  refuse  to  tell,  because  they  can  not. 
The  very  doorway  of  life  is  hung  around  with  flowery 
emblems,  to  indicate  that  it  is  for  some  purpose.  The 
mystery  of  our  being,  the  necessity  of  action,  the  rela- 
tion of  cause  to  effect,  the  dependence  of  one  thing 
upon  another,  the  mutual  influence  and  affinity  of  all 


LIFE. 


9 


things,  assure  us  that  life  is  for  a  purpose  to  which 
every  outward  thing  doth  point. 

The  trees  with  leaves  "  like  a  shield  or  like  a  sword" 
wage  vigorous  warfare  with  the  elements.  They  bend 
under  the  wind,  make  music  of  it,  then  stand  up  again 
and  grow  more  stalwart ly  straight  up  toward  the  heart 
of  the  heavens.  A  man  is  to  learn  of  the  oak,  and 
cling  to  his  plans  as  it  to  its  leaves  till  pushed  off  by 
new  ones;  and  be  as  tenacious  of  life,  when  lopt,  send- 
ing up  branches  straight  as  the  old  trunk,  and  when 
cut  off,  sending  up  a  brood  of  young  oaks,  crowning 
the  stump  with  vigorous  defenders.  He  that  floats 
lazily  down  the  stream,  in  pursuit  of  something  borne 
along  by  the  same  current,  will  find  himself  indeed 
moved  forward;  but  unless  he  lays  his  hand  to  the  oar., 
and  increases  his  speed  by  his  own  labor,  must  be- 
always  at  the  same  distance  from  that  which  he  is  fol- 
lowing. In  our  voyage  of  life  we  must  not  drift  but 
steer. 

Every  youth  should  form,  at  the  outset  of  his  career, 
the  solemn  purpose  to  make  the  most  and  the  best  of 
the  powers  which  God  has  given  him,  and  to  turn  to 
the  best  possible  account  every  outward  advantage 
within  his  reach.  This  purpose  must  carry  with  it  the 
assent  of  the  reason,  the  approval  of  the  conscience, 
the  sober  judgment  of  the  intellect.  It  should  then 
embody  within  itself  whatever  is  vehement  in  desire, 
inspiring  in  hope,  thrilling  in  enthusiasm  and  intense  in 
desperate  resolve.  Such  a  plan  of  life  will  save  him 
from  many  a  damaging  contest  with  temptation.  It 
will  regulate  his  sports  and  recreations.    It  will  go* 


10 


LIFE. 


with  him  by  day  to  trample  under  foot  the  allurements 
of  pleasure.  It  will  hold  his  eyes  waking  as  he  toils 
by  the  evening  lamp.  It  will  watch  over  his  slumbers 
to  jog  him  at  the  appointed  hour,  and  summon  him  to 
the  cheerful  duties  of  his  chosen  pursuit.  Those  who 
labor  and  study  under  the  inspiration  of  such  a  pur** 
pose,  will  soon  soar  out  of  sight  of  those  who  barely 
.allow  themselves  to  be  carried  along  by  the  momentum 
of  the  machinery  to  which  they  are  attached. 

Many  pass  through  life  without  even  a  consciousness 
of  where  they  are,  and  what  they  are  doing.  They 
gaze  on  whatever  lies  directly  before  them,  "  in  fond 
amusement  lost."  Human  life  is  a  watchtower.  It  is 
the  clear  purpose  of  God  that  every  one — the  young 
especially — should  take  their  stand  on  this  tower. 
Look,  listen,  learn,  wherever  you  go,  wherever  you 
tarry.  Something  is  always  transpiring  to  reward 
your  attention.  Let  your  eyes  and  ears  be  always 
open,  and  you  will  often  observe,  in  the  slightest  inci- 
dents, materials  of  advantage  and  means  of  personal 
improvement. 

In  nothing  is  childhood  more  strongly  distinguished 
from  manhood  than  in  this,  that  the  child  has  no  pur- 
pose, no  plan  of  life,  no  will  by  which  his  energies  are 
directed.  He  lives,  in  a  great  measure,  to  enjoy  the 
passing  scene,  and  to  find  his  happiness  in  those  agree- 
able consciousnesses  which  from  hour  to  hour,  come  to 
him  by  chance.  If  his  life  is  governed  by  a  plan,  a 
purpose,  it  is  the  purpose  of  another — not  his  own. 
The  man  has  his  own  purpose,  his  own  plan,  his  own 
life  and  aim.    The  sorrowful  experience  of  multitudes 


LIFE. 


11 


in  this  respect  is  that  they  are  never  men,  but  children 
all  their  days.  Think  out  your  work,  then  work  out 
your  thought.  No  one  can  pursue  a  worthy  object, 
with  all  the  powers  of  his  mind,  and  yet  make  his  life 
a  failure.  A  man  may  work  in  the  dark,  yet  one  day 
light  shall  arise  upon  his  labor;  and  though  he  may 
never,  with  his  own  lips,  declare  the  victory  complete, 
some  day  others  will  behold  in  his  life-work  the  traces 
of  a  great  and  thinking  mind. 

Take  life  lika  a  man.  Take  it  just  as  though  it 
was — as  it  is — an  earnest,  vital,  essential  affair.  Take 
it  just  as  though  you  personally  were  born  to  the  task 
of  performing  a  merry  part  in  it — as  though  the  world 
had  waited  for  your  coming.  Take  it  as  though  it  was 
a  grand  opportunity  to  do  and  to  achieve,  to  carry 
forward  great  and  good  schemes;  to  help  and  cheer 
a  suffering,  weary,  it  may  be  a  heart-broken,  brother. 
The  fact  is,  life  is  undervalued  by  a  great  majority  of 
mankind.  It  is  not  made  half  as  much  of  as  should  be 
the  case.  Now  and  then  a  man  stands  aside  from  the 
crowd,  labors  earnestly,  steadfastly,  confidently,  and 
straightway  becomes  famous  for  wisdom,  intellect, 
skill,  greatness  of  some  sort.  The  world  wonders, 
admires,  idolizes;  and  yet  it  only  illustrates  what  each 
may  do  if  he  takes  hold  of  life  with  a  purpose.  One 
way  is  right  to  go:  the  hero  sees  it  and  moves  on  that 
aim  and  has  the  world  under  him  for  foot  and  support. 
His  approbation  is  honor,  his  dissent  infamy.  Man  was 
sent  into  the  world  to  be  a  growing  and  exhaustless 
force.  The  world  was  spread  out  around  him  to  be 
seized  and  conquered.    Realms  of  infinite  truth  burst 


12 


LIFE. 


open  above  him,  inviting  him  to  tread  those  shining- 
coasts  along  which  Newton  dropped  his  plummet  and 
Herschel  sailed, — a  Columbus  of  the  skies.  Somey 
because  they  have  once  or  twice  met  with  rebuffs,  sink 
in  discouragement.  Such  should  know,  that  our  own 
errors  may  often  teach  us  more  than  the  grave  pre- 
cepts of  others.  We  counsel  the  young  man  never 
to  despair.  If  he  can  make  nothing  by  any  work  that 
presents  itself  now,  he  can  at  least  make  himself;  or, 
what  is  equivalent,  he  can  save  himself  from  the 
sure  death  of  a  pusillanimous,  halting,  irresolute  spirit. 
Never  be  cast  down  by  misfortunes.  If  a  spider  break 
his  web,  over  and  over  he  will  mend  it  again.  And 
do  not  you  fall  behind  the  very  insect  on  your  walls. 
If  the  sun  is  going  down,  look  up  to  the  stars;  if  earth 
is  dark,  keep  your  eye  on  heaven.  With  the  presence 
and  promise  of  God,  we  can  bear  up  under  any  thing; 
and  should  press  on,  and  never  falter  or  fear. 

It  is  my  firm  conviction  that  man  has  only  himself 
to  blame  if  his  life  appears  to  him  at  any  time  void  of 
interest  and  of  pleasure.  Man  may  make  life  what  he 
pleases  and  give  it  as  much  worth,  both  for  himself 
and  others,  as  he  has  energy  for.  Over  his  moral  and 
intellectual  being  his  sway  is  complete. 

The  first  great  mistake  that  men  fall  into  is  that 
they  do  not  use  integrity  and  truth  and  good  sense 
in  judging  of  what  they  are  fit  for.  They  take  the 
things  that  they  want,  and  not  the  things  that  they 
deserve.  They  aspire  after  things  that  are  pleasing 
to  their  ambition,  and  not  after  things  to  which  they 
are  adapted  by  their  capacity.    And  when  a  man  is 


LIFE. 


13 


brought  into  a  sphere  of  his  ambition  for  which  he 
has  not  the  requisite  powers,  and  where  he  is  goaded 
on  every  side  in  the  discharge  of  his  duties,  his  tempt- 
ation is  at  once  to  make  up  by  fraud  and  appearance 
that  which  he  lacks  in  reality.  Men  are  seen  going 
across-lots  to  fortune;  and  a  poor  business  many  of 
them  make  of  it.  Oftentimes  they  lose  their  way; 
and  when  they  do  not,  they  find  so  many  hills  and 
valleys,  so  many  swells  and  depressions,  so  many  ris- 
ings and  fallings,  so  many  ups  and  downs,  that  though 
by  an  air-line  the  distance  might  be  shorter,  in  reality 
the  distance  is  greater  than  by  the  lawful  route;  and 
when  they  come  back  they  are  ragged  and  poor  and 
mean.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  going  across-lots  to 
make  a  beggar  of  a  man's  self  in  this  world.  Whereas, 
the  old-fashioned  homely  law  that  the  man  who  was  to 
establish  himself  in  life  must  take  time  to  lay  the  foun- 
dations of  reality,  and  gradually  and  steadily  build 
thereon,  holds  good  yet.  Though  you  slur  it  over, 
and  cover  it  up  with  fantasies,  and  find  it  almost  impos- 
sible to  believe  it,  it  is  so. 

Rely  not  upon  others ;  but  let  there  be  in  your  own 
bosom  a  calm,  deep,  decided,  and  all-pervading  prin- 
ciple. Look  first,  midst,  and  last  to  God,  to  aid  you 
in  the  great  task  before  you;  and  then  plant  your  foot 
on  the  right.  Let  others  live  as  they  please, — tainted 
by  low  tastes,  debasing  passions,  a  moral  putrefaction. 
Be  you  the  salt  of  the  earth;  incorrupt  in  your  deeds, 
in  your  inmost  thoughts  and  feelings.  Nay  more, 
incorruptible,  like  virtue  herself;  your  manners  blame- 
less; your  views  of  duty,  not  narrow,  false,  and  destruc- 


14 


MAN  AND  WOMAN. 


tive,  but  a  savor  of  life  to  all  around  you.  Let  your 
speech  be  always  with  grace,  seasoned  with  the  salt  of 
truth,  honor,  manliness,  and  benevolence.  Wait  not 
for  the  lash  of  guilt  to  scourge  you  to  the  path  of  God 
and  heaven.  Be  of  the  prudent  who  foresee  the  evil 
and  hide  themselves  from  it;  and  not  of  the  simple, 
who  pass  on  and  are  punished.  Life,  to  youth,  is  a 
fairy  tale  just  opened;  to  old  age,  a  tale  read  through, 
ending  in  death.  Be  wise  in  time,  that  you  may  be 
happy  in  eternity. 

IPum  ami  WSLomwu 

Man  is  bold — woman  is  beautiful.  Man  is  coura- 
geous— woman  is  timid.  Man  labors  in  the  field  — 
woman  at  home.  Man  talks  to  persuade — woman  to 
please.  Man  has  a  daring  heart — woman  a  tender, 
loving  one.  Man  has  power — woman  taste.  Man  has 
justice  —  woman  has  mercy.  Man  has  strength  — 
woman  love;  while  man  combats  with  the  enemy, 
struggles  with  the  world,  woman  is  waiting  to  prepare 
his  repast  and  sweeten  his  existence.  He  has  crosses, 
and  the  partner  of  his  couch  is  there  to  soften  them ; 
his  days  may  be  sad  and  troubled,  but  in  the  chaste 
arms  of  his  wife  he  finds  comfort  and  repose.  Without 
woman,  man  would  be  rude,  gross,  solitary.  Woman 
spreads  around  him  the  fiowers  of  existence,  as  the 
creepers  of  the  forests,  which  decorate  the  trunks  of 
sturdy  oaks  with  their  perfumed  garlands.    Finally,  the 


MAN  AND  WOMAN. 


Christian  pair  live  and  die  united;  together  they  rear 
the  fruits  of  their  union;  in  the  dust  they  lie  side  by 
side;  and  they  are  reunited  beyond  the  limits  of  the 
tomb. 

Man  has  his  strength  and  the  exercise  of  his  power;, 
he  is  busy,  goes  about,  occupies  his  attention,  thinks,, 
looks  forward  to  the  future,  and  finds  consolation 
in  it;  but  woman  stays  at  home,  remains  face  to  face 
with  her  sorrow,  from  which  nothing  distracts  her;  she 
descends  to  the  very  depths  of  the  abyss  it  has  openedy 
measures  it,  and  often  fills  it  with  her  vows  and  tears.. 
To  feel,  to  love,  to  suffer,  to  devote  herself,  will  always, 
be  the  text  of  the  life  of  woman.  Man  has  a  precise- 
and  distinct  language,  the  word  being  luminous  speech. 
Woman  possesses  a  peculiarly  musical  and  magical 
language,  interspersing  the  words  with  song.  Woman 
is  affectionate  and  suffers;  she  is  constantly  in  need  of 
something  to  lean  upon,  like  the  honeysuckle  upon  the 
tree  or  fence.  Man  is  attached  to  the  fireside,  by  his 
affection  for  her,  and  the  happiness  it  gives  him  to  pro- 
tect and  support  her.  Superior  and  inferior  to  man, 
humiliated  by  the  heavy  hand  of  nature,  but  at  the 
same  time  inspired  by  intuitions  of  a  higher  order  than 
man  can  ever  experience,  she  has  fascinated  him,  inno- 
cently bewitched  him  forever.  And  man  has  remained 
enchanted  by  the  spell.  Women  are  generally  better 
creatures  than  men.  Perhaps  they  have,  taken  univer- 
sally, weaker  appetites  and  weaker  intellects,  but  they 
have  much  stronger  affections.  A  man  with  a  bad 
heart  has  been  sometimes  saved  by  a  strong  head;  but 
a  corrupt  woman  is  lost  forever. 


16 


MAN  AND  WOMAN. 


One  has  well  said:  "We  will  say  nothing  of  the 
manner  in  which  that  sex  usually  conduct  an  argument; 
but  the  intuitive  judgments  of  women  are  often  more  to 
be  relied  upon  than  the  conclusions  which  we  reach  by 
an  elaborate  process  of  reasoning.  No  man  that  has 
an  intelligent  wife,  or  who  is  accustomed  to  the  society 
of  educated  women,  will  dispute  this.  Times  without 
number,  you  must  have  known  them  decide  questions 
on  the  instant,  and  with  unerring  accuracy,  which  you 
had  been  poring  over  for  hours,  perhaps,  with  no  other 
result  than  to  find  yourself  getting  deeper  and  deeper 
into  the  tangled  maze  of  doubts  and  difficulties.  It 
were  hardly  generous  to  allege  that  they  achieve  these 
feats  less  by  reasoning  than  by  a  sort  of  sagacity  which 
approximates  to  the  sure  instinct  of  the  animal  races; 
and  yet,  there  seems  to  be  some  ground  for  the  remark 
of  a  witty  French  writer,  that,  when  a  man  has  toiled 
step  by  step  up  a  flight  of  stairs,  he  will  be  sure  to  find 
a  woman  at  the  top;  but  she  will  not  be  able  to  tell 
Jioiv  she  got  there.  How  she  got  there,  however,  is  of 
little  moment." 

It  is  peculiar  with  what  a  degree  of  tact  woman  will 
determine  whether  a  man  is  honest  or  not.  She  cannot 
give  }'cu  the  reason  for  such  an  opinion,  only  that  she 
does  not  like  the  looks  of  the  man.  and  feels  that  he  is 
dishonest.  A  servant  comes  for  employment,  she  looks 
him  in  the  face  and  says  he  is  dishonest.  He  gives 
good  references,  and  you  employ  him;  he  robs  you — 
you  may  be  quite  sure  he  will  do  that.  Years  after, 
another  man  comes;  the  same  lady  looks  him  in  the 
face,  and  says  he,  too,  is  not  honest;  she  says  so,  again, 


MAN  AND  WOMAN. 


17 


fresh  from  her  mere  insight;  but  you,  also,  say  he  is  not 
honest.  You  say,  I  remember  I  had  a  servant  with  just 
the  same  look  about  him,  three  years  ago,  and  he 
robbed  me.  This  is  one  great  distinetion  of  the  female 
intellect  ;  it  walks  directly  and  unconsciously,  by  more 
delicate  insight  and  a  more  refined  and  a  more  trusted 
intuition,  to  an  end  to  which  men's  minds  grope  care- 
fully and  ploddingly  along.  Women  have  exercised  a 
most  beneficial  influence  in  softening  the  hard  and  un- 
truthful outline  which  knowledge  is  apt  to  assume  in  the 
hands  of  direct  scientific  observers  and  experimenters; 
they  have  prevented  the  casting  aside  of  a  mass  of  most 
valuable  truth,  which  is  too  fine  to  be  caught  in  the 
material  sieve,  and  eludes  the  closest  questioning  of  the 
microscope  and  the  test-glass;  which  is  allied  with  our 
passions,  our  feelings;  and  especially  holds  the  fine 
boundary -line  where  mind  and  matter,  sense  and  spirit, 
wave  their  floating  and  undistinguishable  boundaries, 
and  exercise  their  complex  action  and  reaction. 

When  a  woman  is  possessed  of  a  high  degree  of  tact, 
she  sees,  as  by  a  kind  of  second  sight,  when  any  little 
emergency  is  likely  to  occur,  or  when,  to  use  a  more 
familiar  expression,  things  do  not  seem  to  go  right. 
She  is  thus  aware  of  any  sudden  turn  in  conversation, 
and  prepared  for  what  it  may  lead  to;  but  above  all, 
she  can  penetrate  into  the  state  of  mind  of  those  she  is 
placed  in  contact  with,  so  as  to  detect  the  gathering 
gloom  upon  another's  brow,  before  the  mental  storm 
shall  have  reached  any  formidable  height;  to  know 
when  the  tone  of  voice  has  altered;  when  any  unwel- 
come thought  shall  have  presented  itself,  and  when  the 
»/.  ■  .2 


18 


MAN  AND  WOMAN. 


pulse  of  feeling  is  beating  higher  or  lower,  in  conse- 
quence of  some  apparently  trifling  circumstance  which 
has  just  transpired.  In  such  and  innumerable  other 
instances  of  much  the  same  character,  woman,  with  her 
tact,  will  notice  clearly  the  fluctuations  which  constantly 
change  the  feeling  of  social  life,  and  she  can  change  the 
current  of  feeling  suddenly  and  in  such  a  way  that  no 
one  detects  her;  thus,  by  the  power  which  her  nature 
gives  her,  she  saves  society  the  pain  and  annoyance 
which  arise  very  frequently  from  trifles,  or  the  mis- 
management of  some  one  possessing  less  tact  and  social 
adaptation. 

Man  is  the  creature  of  interest  and  ambition.  His 
nature  leads  him  forth  into  the  struggle  and  bustle  of 
the  world.  Love  is  but  the  embellishment  of  his  early 
life,  or  a  song  piped  in  the  intervals  of  the  acts.  He 
seeks  for  fame,  for  fortune,  for  space  in  the  world's 
thought,  and  dominion  over  his  fellow-men.  But  a 
woman's  whole  life  is  a  history  of  the  affections.  The 
heart  is  her  world ;  it  is  there  her  ambition  strives  for 
empire ;  it  is  there  her  avarice  seeks  for  hidden  treasures. 
She  sends  forth  her  sympathies  on  adventure;  she  em- 
barks her  whole  soul  in  the  traffic  of  affection;  and  if 
shipwrecked,  her  case  is  hopeless,  for  it  is  the  bank- 
ruptcy of  the  heart. 

To  a  man,  the  disappointment  of  love  may  occasion 
some  bitter  pangs;  it  wounds  some  feelings  of  tender- 
ness; it  blasts  some  prospects  of  felicity;  but  he  is  an 
active  being;  he  may  dissipate  his  thoughts  in  the 
whirl  of  varied  occupation,  or  may  plunge  into  the  tide 
of  pleasure;  or,  if  the  scene  of  disappointment  be  too 


MAN  AND  WOMAN. 


19 


full  of  painful  associations,  he  can  shift  his  abode  at 
will,  and  taking,  as  it  were,  the  wings  of  morning,  can 
"fly  to  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth,  and  be  at  rest." 

We  find  man  the  cap  stone  of  the  climax  of  para- 
doxes; a  complex  budget  of  contradictions;  a  hetero' 
geneous  compound  of  good  and  evil;  the  noblest  work 
of  God,  bespattered  by  Lucifer;  an  immortal  being, 
cleaving  to  things  not  eternal;  a  rational  being,  viola- 
ting reason;  an  animal  with  discretion,  glutting,  instead 
of  prudently  feeding  appetite;  an  original  harmonious 
compact,  violating  order  ar.d  revelling  in  confusion. 
Man  is  immortal  without  realizing  it;  rational,  but 
often  deaf  to  reason;  an  animal,  transgressing  the  law 
of  appetite;  a  combination  of  noble  powers,  waging 
civil  war,  robbing,  instead  of  aiding  each  other;  yet, 
like  the  Siamese  twins,  compelled  to  remain  in  the  same 
apartment.  They  were  created  allies,  to  promote  their 
own. happiness  and  the  glory  of  their  king;  but  Beelze- 
bub, the  first  rebel  against  heaven,  has  made  them  con- 
spirators. Appetite  is  led  astray  by  pleasure;  they 
first  stupefy,  then  dethrone  reason;  immortality  becomes 
paralyzed,  and  loses  sight  of  things  eternal — stupefied 
reason  and  voracious  appetite  run  riot,  and  depose  the 
soul,  all  these  fall  into  the  ditch  together — the  natural 
consequence  of  violating  the  law  of  common  sense, 
reason,  and  revelation. 

The  following  shows  the  love,  tenderness,  and  forti- 
tude of  woman.  The  letter,  which  was  bedimmed 
with  tears,  was  written  before  the  husband  was  aware 
that  death  was  fixing  its  grasp  upon  the  lovely  com- 
panion, and  laid  in  a  book  which  he  was  wont  to  peruse: 


20 


MAN  AND  W03IAN. 


"  When  this  shall  reach  your  eyes,  dear  G  ,  some 

day  when  you  are  turning  over  the  relics  of  the  past,  I 
shall  have  passed  away  forever,  and  the  cold  white 
stone  will  be  keeping  its  lonely  watch  over  lips  you 
have  so  often  pressed,  and  the  sod  will  be  growing 
green  that  shall  hide  forever  from  your  sight  the  dust 
of  one  who  has  so  often  nestled  close  to  your  warm 
heart.  For  many  long  and  sleepless  nights,  when  all 
my  thoughts  were  at  rest,  I  have  wrestled  with  the 
consciousness  of  approaching  death,  until  at  last  it  has 
forced  itself  on  my  mind.  Although  to  you  and  to 
others  it  might  now  seem  but  the  nervous  imagination 

of  a  girl,  yet,  dear  G  ,  it  is  so !    Many  weary  hours 

have  I  passed  in  the  endeavor  to  reconcile  myself  to 
leaving  you,  whom  I  love  so  well,  and  this  bright  world 
of  sunshine  and  beauty;  and  hard  indeed  is  it  to  strug- 
gle on  silently  and  alone,  with  the  sure  conviction  that 
I  am  about  to  leave  forever  and  .^o  down  alone  into  the 
dark  valley.  'But  I  know  in;  whom  I  have  trusted,' 
and  leaning  upon  His  arm,  'I  fear  no  evil.1  Don't 
blame  me  for  keeping  even  all  this  from  you.  How 
could  I  subject  you,  of  all  others,  to  such  a  sorrow  as  I 
feel  at  parting,  when  time  will  soon  make  it  apparent 
to  you?  I  could  have  wished  to  live,  if  only  to  be  at 
your  side  when  your  time  shall  come,  and  pillowing 
your 'head  upon  my  breast,  wipe  the  death  damps  from 
your  brow,  and  commend  your  departing  spirit  to  its 
Maker's  presence,  embalmed  in  woman's  holiest  prayer. 
But  it  is  not  to  be  so;  and  I  submit.  Yours  is  the 
privilege  of  watching,  through  long  and  dreary  nights, 
for  the  spirit's  final  flight,  and  of  transferring  my  sink- 


MAN  AND  WOMAN. 


21 


ing  head  from  your  breast  to  my  Savior's  bosom !  And 
you  shall  share  my  last  thought,  the  last  faint  pressure 
of  my  hand,  and  the  last  feeble  kiss  shall  be  yours;  and 
even  when  flesh  and  heart  shall  have  failed  me,  nry  eye 
shall  rest  on  yours  until  glazed  by  death ;  and  our  spirits 
shall  hold  one  fast  communion,  until  gently  fading  from 
my  view,  the  last  of  earth,  you  shall  mingle  with  the 
first  bright  glimpses  of  the  unfading  glories  of  that 
better  world,  where  partings  are  unknown.    Well  do  I 

know  the  spot,  dear  G  ,  where  you  will  lay  me;  often 

have  we  stood  by  the  place,  as  we  watched  the  mellow 
sunset,  as  it  glanced  its  quivering  flashes  through  the 
leaves,  and  burnished  the  grassy  mounds  around  us  with 
stripes  of  gold.  Each  perhaps  has  thought  that  one  of 
us  would  come  alone;  and  whichever  it  might  be,  your 
name  would  be  on  the  stone.  We  loved  the  spot,  and 
I  know  you'll  love  it  none  the  less  when  you  see  the 
same  quiet  sunlight  and  gentle  breezes  play  among  the 
grass  that  grows  over  your  Mary's  grave.  I  know 
you'll  go  often  alone  there,  when  I  am  laid  there,  and 
my  spirit  shall  be  with  you  then,  and  whisper  among 
the  waving  branches,  'I  am  not  lost,  but  gone  before.'  " 
A  woman  has  no  natural  gift  more  bewitching  than 
a  sweet  laugh.  It  is  like  the  sound  of  flutes  upon  the 
water.  It  leads  from  her  in  a  clear  sparkling  rill;  and 
the  heart  that  hears  it  feels  as  if  bathed  in  the  cool, 
exhilarating  spring.  Have  you  ever  pursued  an  unseen 
figure  through  the  trees,  led  on  by  a  fairy  laugh,  now 
here,  now  there,  now  lost,  now  found?  We  have.  And 
we  are  pursuing  that  wandering  voice  to  this  day. 
Sometimes  it  comes  to  us  in  the  midst  of  care  and  sor- 


22 


MAN  AND  WOMAN. 


row,  or  irksome  business,  and  then  we  turn  away  and 
listen,  and  hear  it  ringing  throughout  the  room  like  a 
silver  bell,  with  power  to  scare  away  the  evil  spirits  of 
the  mind.  How  much  we  owe  to  that  sweet  laugh !  It 
turns  prose  to  poetry ;  it  flings  showers  of  sunshine  over 
the  darkness  of  the  wood  in  which  we  are  traveling. 

Quincy'  being  asked  why  there  were  more  women 
than  men,  replied,  "It  is  in  conformity  with  the  arrange- 
ments of  nature.  We  always  see  more  of  heaven  than 
of  earth."  He  cannot  be  an  unhappy  man  who  has  the 
love  and  smile  of  woman  to  accompany  him  in  every 
department  of  life.  The  world  may  look  dark  and 
cheerless  without  —  enemies  may  gather  in  his  path  — 
but  when  he  returns  to  his  fireside,  and  feels  the  tender 
love  of  woman,  he  forgets  his  cares  and  troubles,  and  is 
comparatively  a  happy  man.  He  is  but  half  prepared 
for  the  journey  of  life,  who  takes  not  with  him  that 
friend  who  will  forsake  him  in  no  emergency — who 
will  divide  his  sorrows  —  increase  his  joys — lift  the  veil 
from  his  heart  —  and  throw  sunshine  amid  the  darkest 
scenes.  No,  that  man  cannot  be  miserable  who  has 
such  a  companion,  be  he  ever  so  poor,  despised,  and 
trodden  upon  by  the  world.  No  trait  of  character  is 
more  valuable  in  a  female  than  the  possession  of  a  sweet 
temper.  Home  can  never  be  made  happy  without  it. 
It  is  like  the  flowers  that  spring  up  in  our  pathway  > 
reviving  and  cheering  us.  Let  a  man  go  home  at  nighty 
wearied  and  worn  by  the  toils  of  the  day,  and  how 
soothing  is  a  word  by  a  good  disposition!  It  is  sun- 
shine falling  on  his  heart.  He  is  happy,  and  the  cares 
of  life  are  forgotten.    Nothing  can  be  more  touching 


MAN  AND  WOMAN. 


23 


than  to  behold  a  woman  who  had  been  all  tenderness 
and  dependence,  and  alive  to  every  trivial  roughness 
while  treacling  the  prosperous  path  of  life,  suddenly 
rising  in  mental  force  to  be  the  comforter  and  supporter 
of  her  husband  under  misfortune,  and  abiding  with 
unshrinking  firmness  the  bitterest  winds  of  adversity. 
As  the  vine  which  has  long  twined  its  graceful  foliage 
about  the  oak,  and  been  lifted  by  it  in  sunshine,  will, 
when  the  hardy  plant  is  rived  by  the  thunderbolt,  cling 
round  it  with  its  caressing  tendrils,  and  bind  up  its 
shattered  boughs.  So  it  is  beautifully  ordained  that 
woman,  who  is  the  mere  dependent  and  ornament  of 
man  in  happiest  hours,  should  be  his  stay  and  solace 
when  smitten  by  sudden  calamity. 

A  woman  of  true  intelligence  is  a  blessing  at  home, 
in  her  circle  of  friends,  and  in  society.  Wherever  she 
goes,  she  carries  with  her  a  healthgiving  influence. 
There  is  a  beautiful  harmony  about  her  character  that 
at  once  inspires  a  respect  which  soon  warms  into  love. 
The  influence  of  such  a  woman  upon  society  is  of  the 
most  salutary  kind.  She  strengthens  right  principles  in 
the  virtuous,  incites  the  selfish  and  indifferent  to  good 
actions,  and  gives  to  even  the  light  and  frivolous  a  taste 
for  food  more  substantial  than  the  frothy  gossip  with 
which  they  seek  to  recreate  their  minds. 

Thackeray  says:  "It  is  better  for  you  to  pass  an 
evening  once  or  twice  a  week  in  a  lady's  drawing-room, 
even  though  the  conversation  is  slow,  and  you  know  the 
girl's  song  by  heart,  than  in  a  club,  a  tavern,  or  a  pit 
of  a  theater.  All  amusements  of  youth  to  which  virtu- 
ous women  are  not  admitted,  rely  on  it,  are  deleterious 


24 


MAN  AND  WOMAN. 


in  their  nature.  All  men  who  avoid  female  society  have 
dull  perceptions,  and  are  stupid,  or  have  gross  tastes, 
and  revolt  against  what  is  pure.  Your  club  swag- 
gerers, who  are  sucking  the  butts  of  billiard  cues  all 
night,  call  female  society  insipid.  Poetry  is  uninspiring 
to  a  jockey;  beauty  has  no  charms  for  a  blind  man; 
music  does  not  please  a  poor  beast  who  does  not  know 
one  tune  from  another;  but  as  a  pure  epicure  is  hardly 
tired  of  water,  sauces,  and  brown  bread  and  butter,  I 
protest  I  can  sit  for  a  whole  evening  talking  with  a  well 
regulated,  kindly  woman  about  her  girl  Fanny,  or  her 
boy  Frank,  and  like  the  evening's  entertainment.  One 
of  the  great  benefits  a  man  may  derive  from  a  woman's 
society  is  that  he  is  bound  to  be  respectful  to  her.  The 
habit  is  of  great  good  to  your  moral  men,  depend  upon 
it.  Our  education  makes  us  the  most  eminently  selfish 
men  in  the  world.'" 

Tom.  Hood,  in  writing  to  his  wife,  says :  "  I  never  was 
anything  till  I  knew  you;  and  I  have  been  better,  hap- 
pier, and  a  more  prosperous  man  ever  since.  Lay  that 
truth  by  in  lavender,  and  remind  me  of  it  when  I  fail. 
I  am  writing  fondly  and  warmly ;  but  not  without  good 
cause.  First,  your  own  affectionate  letter,  lately  re- 
ceived; next,  the  remembrance  of  our  dear  children, 
pledges  of  our  old  familiar  love;  then  a  delicious  im- 
pulse to  pour  out  the  overflowings  of  my  heart  into 
yours;  and  last,  not  least,  the  knowledge  that  your  dear 
eyes  will  read  what  my  hands  are  now  writing.  Per- 
haps there  is  an  after-thought  that,  whatever  may  befall 
me,  the  wife  of  nry  bosom  will  have  this  acknowledg- 


MAN  A  KB  WOMAN. 


25 


ment  of  her  tenderness,  worth  and  excellence,  of  all  that 
is  wifely  or  womanly,  from  nry  pen." 

I  have  observed  among  all  nations  that  the  women 
ornament  themselves  more  than  the  men;  that  wherever 
found,  they  are  the  same  kind,  civil,  obliging,  humane, 
tender  beings;  that  the}7  are  ever  inclined  to  be  gay 
and  cheerful,  timorous  and  modest.  They  do  not  hesi- 
tate like  a  man,  to  perform  any  hospitable  or  generous 
action;  not  haughty  or  arrogant,  or  supercilious,  but 
full  of  courtesy,  and  fond  of  society,  industrious,  eco- 
nomical, ingenious,  more  liable,  in  general,  to  err  than 
man,  but,  in  general,  also,  more  virtuous,  and  perform- 
ing more  good  actions  than  he. 

The  gentle  tendrils  of  woman's  heart  sometimes 
twine  around  a  proud  and  sinful  spirit,  like  roses  and 
honeysuckles  around  a  lightning-rod,  clinging  for  sup- 
port to  what  brings  down  upon  them  the  blasting 
thunderbolt. 

These  are  the  national  traits  of  woman's  character: 
The  English  woman  is  respectful  and  proud ;  the 
French  woman  is  gay  and  agreeable ;  the  Italian  is 
ardent  and  passionate ;  the  American  is  sincere  and 
affectionate.  With  an  English  woman  love  is  a  prin- 
—  ciple ;  with  a  French  woman  it  is  a  caprice ;  with  an 
Italian  it  is  a  passion;  with  an  American  it  is  a  senti- 
ment. A  man  is  married  to  an  English  lady;  united 
to  a  French  woman;  cohabits  with  an  Italian;  and  is 
wedded  to  an  American.  An  English  woman  is  anx- 
ious to  secure  a  lord;  a  French  woman,  a  companion; 
an  Italian,  a  lover:  an  American,  a  husband.  The 
Englishman  respects  his  lady;  the  Frenchman  esteems 


26 


MAN  AND  WOMAN 


his  companion;  the  Italian  adores  his  mistress;  the 
American  loves  his  wife.  At  night  the  Englishman 
returns  to  his  house;  the  Frenchman  to  his  establish- 
ment; the  Italian  to  his  retreat;  the  American  to  his 
home.  When  an  Englishman  is  sick,  his  lady  visits 
him;  when  a  Frenchman  is  sick,  his  companion  pities 
nim;  when  an  Italian  is  sick,  his  mistress  sighs  over 
him;  when  an  American  is  sick,  his  wife  nurses  him. 
When  an  Englishman  dies,  his  lad}7  is  bereaved;  when 
a  Frenchman  dies,  his  companion  grieves;  when  an 
Italian  dies,  his  mistress  laments;  when  an  American 
dies,  his  wife  mourns.  An  English  woman  instructs 
her  offspring;  a  French  woman  teaches  her  progeny; 
an  Italian  rears  her  }Toung;  an  American  educates  her 
child. 

The  true  lady  is  known  wherever  you  meet  her. 
Ten  women  shall  get  into  the  street  car  or  omnibus, 
and,  though  we  never  saw  them,  we  shall  point  out  the 
true  lady.  She  does  not  giggle  constantly  at  every 
little  thing  that  transpires,  or  does  some  one  appear 
with  a  peculiar  dress,  it  does  not  throw  her  into  con- 
fusion. She  wears  no  flowered  brocade  to  be  trodden 
under  foot,  nor  ball-room  jewehy,  nor  rose-tinted 
gloves;  but  the  lace  frill  round  her  face  is  scrupulously 
fresh,  and  the  strings  under  her  chin  have  evidently 
been  handled  only  by  dainty  ringers.  She  makes  no 
parade  of  a  watch,  if  she  wears  one;  nor  does  she  draw 
off  her  dark,  neatly-fitting  glove  to  display  ostentatious 
rings.  Still  we  notice,  nestling  in  the  straw  beneath  us, 
such  a  trim  little  boot,  not  paper  soled,  but  of  an  anti- 
consumption  thickness;  the  bonnet  upon  her  head  is  of 


MAN  AND  WOMAN. 


27 


plain  straw,  simply  trimmed,  for  your  true  lady  never 
wears  a  ki  dress  hat"  in  an  omnibus.  She  is  quite  as 
civil  to  the  -poorest  as  to  the  richest  person  who  sits 
beside  her,  and  equally  regardful  of  their  rights.  If 
she  attracts  attention,  it  is  by  the  unconscious  grace  of 
her  person  and  manner,  not  by  the  ostentation  of  her 
dress.  We  are  quite  sorry  when  she  pulls  the  strap 
and  disappears;  if  we  were  a  bachelor  we  should  go 
home  to  our  solitary  den  with  a  resolution  to  become  a 
better  and  a — married  man.  The  strongest  man  feels 
the  influence  of  woman's  gentlest  thoughts,  as  the 
mightiest  oak  quivers  in  the  softest  breeze.  We  con- 
fess to  a  great  distrust  of  that  man  who  persistently 
underrates  woman.  Never  did  language  better  apply 
to  an  adjective  than  when  she  called  the  wife  the  "bet- 
ter-half' We  admire  the  ladies  because  of  their  beauty, 
respect  them  because  of  their  virtues,  adore  them  be- 
cause of  their  intelligence,  and  love  them  because  tve 
carft  help  it. 

Man  was  made  to  protect,  love  and  cherish,  not  to 
undervalue,  neglect,  or  abuse  woman.  Treated,  edu- 
cated and  esteemed,  as  she  merits,  she  rises  in  dignity, 
becomes  the  refiner,  and  imparts  a  milder,  softer  tone 
to  man.  No  community  has  ever  exhibited  the  refine- 
ments of  civilization  and  social  order  where  women 
w^ere  held  in  contempt  and  their  rights  not  properly 
respected  and  preserved.  Degrade  woman  and  you 
degrade  man  more.  She  is  the  fluid  of  the  thermom- 
eter of  society,  placed  there  by  the  hand  of  the  great 
Creator.  Man  may  injure  the  instrument,  but  can 
neither  destroy  or  provide  a  substitute  for  the  mercury. 


28 


MAN  AND  WOMAN. 


Her  rights  are  as  sacred  as  those  of  the  male  sex.  Her 
mental  powers  are  underrated  by  those  only  who  have 
either  not  seen,  or  were  so  blinded  by  prejudice,  that 
they  would  not  see  their  development.  Educate  girls 
as  boys,  put  women  in  the  business  arena  designed  for 
men,  and  they  will  acquit  themselves  far  better  than 
bo}^s  and  men  would,  if  they  were  placed  in  the  depart- 
ments designed  for  females. 

As  a  species,  the  perception  of  woman,  especially  in 
cases  of  emergency,  is  more  icute  than  that  of  the 
male  species;  unquestionably  so  designed  by  an  all-wise 
Creator  for  the  preservation  and  perpetuity  of  our  race. 
Her  patience  and  fortitude,  her  integrity  and  constancy, 
her  piety  and  devotion,  are  naturally  stronger  than  in 
the  other  sex.  If  she  was  first  in  transgression,  she  was 
first  in  the  breach.  Her  seed  has  bruised  the  serpent's 
head.  She  stood  by  the  expiring  Jesus,  when  boasting 
Peter  and  the  other  disciples  had  forsaken  their  Lord. 
She  was  the  last  at  his  tomb,  embalmed  his  sacred 
body,  and  the  first  to  discover  that  he  had  burst  the 
bars  of  death,  risen  from  the  cleft  rock,  and  triumphed 
over  death  and  the  grave. 

Under  affliction,  especially  physical,  the  fortitude  of 
woman  is  proverbial.  As  a  nurse,  one  female  will  en- 
dure more  than  five  men.  That  she  is  more  honest 
than  man,  our  penitentiaries  fully  demonstrate.  That 
she  is  more  religiously  inclined,  the  records  of  our 
churches  will  show.  That  she  is  more  devotional,  our 
prayer  meetings  will  prove. 

Women  have  exercised  a  most  remarkable  judgment 
in  regard  to  great  issues.    The}'  have  prevented  the 


MOTHER. 


29 


casting  aside  of  plans  which  led  to  very  remarkable 
discoveries  and  inventions.  When  Columbus  laid  a  plan 
to  discover  the  new  world,  he  could  not  get  a  hearing 
till  he  applied  to  a  woman  for  help.  Woman  equips 
man  for  the  voyage  of  life.  She  is  seldom  a  leader  in 
any  prospect  but  meets  her  peculiar  and  best  altitude  as 
helper.  Though  man  executes  a  project,  she  fits  him 
for  it,  beginning  in  his  childhood.  A  man  discovered 
America,  but  a  woman  equipped  the  voyage.  So  every- 
where; man  executes  the  performances,  but  woman 
trains  the  man.  Every  effectual  person,  leaving  his 
mark  on  the  world,  is  but  another  Columbus,  for  whose 
furnishing  some  Isabella,  in  the  form  of  his  mother,  lays 
down  her  jewelry,  her  vanities,  her  comforts. 

It  is  true  to  nature,  although  it  be  expressed  in  a 
figurative  form,  that  a  mother  is  both  the  morning  and 
the  evening  star  of  life.  The  light  of  her  eye  is  always 
the  first  to  rise,  and  often  the  last  to  set  upon  man's  day 
of  trial.  She  wields  a  power  rrkrre  decisive  Tar  than 
s}'llogisms  in  argument,  or  courts  of  last  appeal  in  au- 
thority7. Nay,  in  cases  not  a  few,  where  there  has  been 
no  fear  of  God  before  the  eyes  of  the  young — where 
His  love  has  been  unfelt  and  His  law  outraged,  a 
mother's  affection  or  her  tremulous  tenderness  has  held 
transgressors  by  the  heart-strings,  and  been  the  means 
of  leading  them  back  to  virtue  and  to  God, 


30 


MOTHER. 


Woman's  charms  are  certainly  many  and  powerful 
The  expanding  rose,  just  bursting  into  beauty,  has  an 
irresistible  bewitchingness ; — the  blooming  bride,  led 
triumphantly  to  the  hymeneal  altar,  awakens  admiration 
and  interest,  and  the  blush  of  her  cheek  fills  with  de- 
light;— but  the  charm  of  maternity  is  more  sublime 
than  all  these.  . 

Heaven  has  imprinted  in  the  mother's  face  something 
beyond  this  world,  something  which  claims  kindred 
with  the  skies — the  angelic  smile,  the  tender  look,  the 
waking,  watchful  eye,  which  keeps  its  fond  vigil  over 
her  slumbering  babe. 

Mother!  ecstatic  sound  so  twined  round  our  hearts 
that  they  must  cease  to  throb  ere  we  forget  it !  'tis  our 
first  love;  'tis  part  of  religion.  Nature  has  set  the 
mother  upon  such  a  pinnacle,  that  our  infant  eyes  and 
arms  are  first  uplifted  to  it;  we  cling  to  it  in  manhood; 
wre  almost  worship  it  in  old  age.  He  who  can  enter 
an  apartment  and  behold  the  tender  babe  feeding  on 
its  mother's  beauty — nourished  by  the  tide  of  life 
which  flows  through  her  generous  veins,  without  a 
panting  bosom  and  a  grateful  eye,  is  no  man,  but  a 
monster. 

"Can  a  mother's  love  be  supplied?"  No!  a  thou- 
sand times  no!  By  the  deep,  earnest  yearning  of  1113' 
spirit  for  a  mother's  love;  by  the  weary,  aching  void  in 
my  heart ;  by  the  restless,  unsatisfied  wanderings  of  -my 
affections,  ever  seeking  an  object  on  which  to  rest;  by 
our  instinctive  discernment  of  the  true  maternal  love 
from  the  false — as  we  would  discern  between  a  lifeless 
statue  and  a  breathing  man;  by  the  hallo  wed  emotions 


MOTHER, 


31 


with  which  we  cherish  in  the  depths  of  our  hearts  the 
vision  of  a  grass-grown  mound  in  a  quiet  graveyard 
among  the  mountains  ;  by  the  reverence,  the  holy  love, 
the  feeling  akin  to  idolatry  with  which  our  thoughts 
hover  about  an  angel  form  among  the  seraphs  of 
Heaven — by  all  these,  we  answer,  no! 

Often  do  I  sigh  in  my  struggles  with  the  hard,  uncar- 
ing world,  for  the  sweet,  deep  security  1  felt  when,  of 
an  evening,  nestling  in  her  bosom,  I  listened  to  some 
quiet  tale,  suitable  to  my  age.  read  in  her  tender  and 
untiring  voice.  Never  can  I  forget  her  sweet  glance 
cast  upon  me  when  I  appeared  asleep;  never  her  kiss 
of  peace  at  night.  Years  have  passed  away  since  we 
laid  her  beside  my  father  in  the  old  church-yard;  yet, 
still  her  voice  whispers  from  the  grave,  and  her  eye 
watches  over  me,  as  I  visit  spots  long  since  hallowed  to 
the  memory  of  my  mother. 

Oli!  there  is  an  enduring  tenderness  in  the  love  of  a 
mother  to  her  son  that  transcends  all  other  affections  of 
the  heart.  It  is  neither  to  be  chilled  by  selfishness,  nor 
daunted  by  danger,  nor  weakened  by  worthlessness, 
nor  stifled  by  ingratitude.  She  will  sacrifice  every 
comfort  to  his  convenience:  she  will  surrender  every 
pleasure  to  his  enjoyment;  she  will  glory  in  his  fame 
and  exult  in  his  prosperity;  and  if  misfortune  overtake 
him,  he  will  be  the  dearer  to  her  from  misfortune;  and 
if  disgrace  settle  upon  his  name,  she  will  still  love  and 
cherish  him  in  spite  of  his  disgrace ;  and  if  all  the  world 
beside  cast  him  off,  she  will  be  all  the  world  to  him. 

Alas!  how  little  do  we  appreciate  a  mother's  tender- 
ness while  living.    How  heedless  are  we  in  youth  of  all 


4 


32 


MOTHER. 


her  anxieties  and  kindness?  But  when  she  is  dead  and 
gone,  when  the  cares  and  coldness  of  the  world  come 
withering  to  our  hearts,  when  we  experience  how  hard 
it  is  to  find  true  sympathy,  how  few  to  love  us  for  our- 
selves, how  few  will  befriend  us  in  misfortune,  then  it  is 
that  we  think  of  the  mother  we  have  lost. 

Over  the  grave  of  a  friend,  of  a  brother,  or  a  sister, 
I  would  plant  the  primrose,  emblematical  of  youth;  but 
over  that  of  a  mother,  I  would  let  the  green  grass 
shoot  up  unmolested,  for  there  is  something  in  the 
simple  covering  which  nature  spreads  upon  the  grave, 
that  well  becomes  the  abiding  place  of  decaying  age. 
G\  a  mother's  grave!  Earth  has  some  sacred  spots, 
where  we  feel  like  loosing  shoes  from  our  feet,  and 
treading  with  reverence;  where  common  words  of 
social  converse  seem  rude,  and  friendship's  hands  have 
lingered  in  each  other;  where  vows  have  been  plighted, 
prayers  offered,  and  tears  of  parting  shed.  Oh!  how 
thoughts  hover  around  such  places,  and  travel  back 
through  unmeasured  space  to  visit  them!  But  of  all 
spots  on  this  green  earth  none  is  so  sacred  as  that 
where  rests,  waiting  the  resurrection,  those  we  have 
once  loved  and  cherished  —  our  brothers,  or  our  chil- 
dren. Hence,  in  all  ages,  the  better  part  of  mankind 
have  chosen  and  loved  spots  of  the  dead,  and  on  these 
spots  they  have  loved  to  wander  at  eventide.  But  of 
all  places,  even  among  the  charnel-houses  of  the  dead, 
none  is  so  sacred  as  a  mother's  grave.  There  sleeps 
the  nurse  of  infancy,  the  guide  of  our  youth,  the  coun- 
selor of  our  riper  years  —  our  friend  when  others 
deserted  us;  she  whose  heart  was  a  stranger  to  every 


MOTHER. 


33 


other  feeling  but  love — there  she  sleeps  and  we  love 
the  very  earth  for  her  sake. 

In  what  Christian  eountry  can  we  deny  the  influence 
which  a  mother  exerts  over  the  whole  life  of  her  chil- 
dren. The  roughest  and  hardest  wanderer,  while  he 
is  tossed  on  the  ocean,  or  while  he  scorches  his  feet  on 
the  desert  sands,  recurs  in  his  loneliness  and  suffering 
to  the  smiles  which  maternal  affection  shed  over  his 
infancy;  the  reckless  sinner,  even  in  his  hardened 
career,  occasionally  hears  the  whisperings  of  those 
holy  precepts  instilled  by  a  virtuous  mother,  and, 
although  they  may,  in  the  fullness  of  guilt,  be  neg- 
lected, there  are  many  instances  of  their  having  so 
stung  the  conscience,  that  they  have  led  to  a  deep  and 
lasting  repentance;  the  erring  child  of  either  sex  will 
then,  if  a  mother  yet  exists,  turn  to  her  for  that  conso- 
lation wrhich  the  laws  of  society  deny,  and  in  the  last- 
ing purity  of  a  mother's  love  will  find  the  way  to 
heaven.  How  cheerfully  does  a  virtuous  son  labor  for 
a  poverty-stricken  mother!  How  alive  is  he  to  her 
honor  and  high  standing  in  the  world!  And  should 
that  mother  be  deserted — be  left  in  "  worse  than  wid- 
owhood," how  proudly  he  stands  forth  her  comforter 
and  protector!  Indeed,  the  more  we  reflect  upon  the 
subject,  the  more  entirely  are  we  convinced,  that  no 
influence  is  so  lasting,  or  of  such  wide  extent,  and  the 
more  extensively  we  do  feel  the  necessity  of  guiding 
this  sacred  affection,  and  perfecting  that  being  from 
whom  it  emanates. 

Science  has  sometimes  tried  to  teach  us  that  if  a 
pebble  be  cast  into  the  sea  on  any  shore,  the  effects  are 
3 


34 


MOTHER. 


felt,  though  not  perceived  by  man,  over  the  whole  area 
of  the  ocean.  Or,  more  wonderful  still,  science  has 
tried  to  show  that  the  effects  of  all  the  sounds  ever 
uttered  by  man  or  beast,  or  caused  by  inanimate  things, 
are  still  floating  in  the  air:  its  present  state  is  just  the 
aggregate  result  of  all  these  sounds ;  and  if  these  things 
be  true,  they  famish  an  emblem  of  the  effects  produced 
by  a  mother's  power  —  erfects  which  stretch  into  eter- 
nity, and  operate  there  forever,  in  sorrow  or  in  joy. 

The  mother  can  take  man's  whole  nature  under  her 
control.  She  becomes  what  she  has  been  called,  "The 
Divinity  of  Infancy.'"  Her  smile  is  its.  sunshine,  her 
word  its  mildest  law,  until  sin  and  the  world  have 
steeled  the  heart.  She  can  shower  around  her  the 
most  genial  of  all  influences,  and  from  the  time  when 
she  first  laps  her  little  one  in  Elysium  by  clasping  him 
to  her  bosom — "  its  first  paradise" — to  the  moment 
when  that  child  is  independent  of  her  aid,  or  perhaps, 
like  Washington,  directs  the  destinies  of  millions,  her 
smile,  her  word,  her  wish,  is  an  inspiring  force.  A 
sentence  of  encouragement  or  praise  is  a  joy  for  a  day. 
It  spreads  light  upon  all  faces,  and  renders  a  mother's 
power  more  and  more  charm-like,  as  surely  as  cease- 
less accusing,  rebuking,  and  correcting,  chafes,  sours, 
and  disgusts.  So  intense  is  her  power  that  the  mere 
remembrance  of  a  praying  mother's  hand,  laid  on  the 
head  in  infancy,  has  held  back  a  son  from  guilt  when 
passion  had  waxed  strong. 

The  mother  is  the  angel-spirit  of  home.  Her  tender 
yearnings  over  the  cradle  of  her  infant  babe,  her  guar- 
dian care  of  the  child  and  youth,  and  her  bosom  com- 


MOTHER. 


35 


panionship  with  the  man  of  her  lovre  and  choice,  make 
her  the  personal  center  of  the  interests,  the  hopes  and 
the  happiness  of  the  family!!  Her  love  glows  in  her 
sympathies  and  reigns  in  all  her  thoughts  and  deeds. 
It  never  cools,  never  tires,  never  dreads,  never  sleeps, 
but  ever  glows  and  burns  with  increasing  ardor,  and 
with  sweet  and  holy  incense  upon  the  altar  of  home- 
devotion.  And  even  when  she  is  gone  to  her  last  rest, 
the  sainted  mother  in  heaven  sways  a  mightier  influ- 
ence over  her  wayward  husband  or  child,  than  when 
she  was  present.  Her  departed  spirit  still  hovers  over 
his  affections,  overshadows  his  path,  and  draws  him  by 
unseen  cords  to  herself  in  heaven. 

But  in  glancing  at  a  mother's  position  in  our  homes> 
we  should  not  overlook  the  sorrows  to  which  she  is 
often  exposed.  A  mother  mourning  by  the  grave  of  her 
first-born  is  a  spectacle  of  woe.  A  mother  watching 
the  palpitating  frame  of  her  child,  as  life  ebbs  slowly 
away,  must  evoke  the  sympathy  of  the  sternest.  A 
mother  closing  the  dying  eye  of  child  after  child,  till  it 
seems  as  if  she  were  to  be  left  alone  in  the  world  again, 
is  one  of  the  saddest  sights  of  earth:  when  the  cradle- 
song  passes  into  a  dirge,  the  heart  is  laden  indeed. 

Not  long  ago  two  friends  were  sitting  together  en- 
gaged in  letter  writing.  One  was  a  young  man  from 
India,  the  other  a  female  friend  part  of  whose  family 
resided  in  that  far-off  land.  The  former  was  writing 
to  his  mother  in  India.  When  the  letter  was  finished 
his  friend  offered  to  enclose  it  in  hers,  to  save  postage. 
This  he  politely  declined,  saying:  "If  it  be  sent  sepa- 
rately, it  will  reach  her  sooner  than  if  sent  through  a 


36 


MOTHER. 


friend;  and,  perhaps,  it  may  save  her  a  tear."  His 
friend  was  touched  at  his  tender  regard  for  his  mother's 
feelings,  and  felt  with  him,  that  it  was  worth  paying  the 
postage  to  save  his  mother  a  tear.  Would  that  every 
boy  and  girl,  every  young  man  and  every  young 
woman  were  equally  saving  of  a  mother's  tears. 

The  Christian  mother  especially  can  deeply  plant  and 
genially  cherish  the  seeds  of  truth.  Is  her  child  sick? 
that  is  a  text  from  which  to  speak  of  the  Great  Physician. 
Is  it  the  sober  calm  of  evening,  when  even  children  grow 
sedate?  She  can  tell  of  the  Home  where  there  is 
no  night.  Is  it  morning,  when  all  are  buoyantly  happy  ? 
The  eternal  day  is  suggested,  and  its  glories  may  be 
told.  That  is  the  wisdom  which  wins  souls  even  more 
than  the  formal  lesson,  the  lecture,  or  the  task. 

There  is  one  suggestion  more.  Perhaps  the  saddest 
sentence  that  can  fall  upon  the  ear  regarding  any  child 
is — "He  has  no  mother;  she  is  dead!"  It  comes  like 
a  voice  from  the  sepulchre,  and  involves  the  consumma- 
tion of  all  the  sorrows  that  can  befall  the  young.  In 
that  condition  they  are  deprived  of  their  most  tender 
comforter,  and  their  wisest  counselor.  They  are  left  a 
prey  to  a  thousand  temptations  or  a  thousand  ills,  and 
freed  from  the  restraint  of  one  who  could  curb  without 
irritating,  or  guide  without  affecting  superiority.  Now 
will  mothers  live  with  their  children  as  if  they  were 
thus  to  leave  them  in  a  cold  and  inhospitable  world? 
Will  they  guide  their  little  ones  to  Him  who  is  pre- 
eminently the  God  of  the  orphan,  and  who  inspired  his 
servant  to  say — "Though  father  and  mother  forsake 
me,  the  Lord  will  take  me  up." 


CHILDREN. 


37 


Woe  to  him  who  smiles  not  over  a  cradle,  and  weeps 
not  over  a  tomb.  He  who  has  never  tried  the  compan- 
ionship of  a  little  child,  has  carelessly  passed  by  one  of 
the  greatest  pleasures  of  life,  as  one  passes  a  rare  flower 
without  plucking  it  or  knowing  its  value.  The  gleeful 
laugh  of  happy  children  is  the  best  home  music,  and 
the  graceful  figures  of  childhood  are  the  best  statuary. 
We  are  all  kings  and  queens  in  the  cradle,  and  each 
babe  is  a  new  marvel,  a  new  miracle.  The  perfection 
of  the  providence  for  childhood  is  easily  acknowledged. 
The  care  which  covers  the  seed  of  the  tree  under  tough 
husks,  and  stony  cases  provides  for  the  human  plant, 
the  mother's  breast  and  the  father's  house.  The  size 
of  the  nestler  is  comic,  and  its  tiny,  beseeching  weak- 
ness is  compensated  perfectly  by  the  one  happy,  patron- 
izing look  of  the  mother,  who  is  a  sort  of  high-reposing 
Providence  to  it.  Welcome  to  the  parents  the  puny 
struggler,  strong  in  his  weakness,  his  little  arms  more 
irresistible  than  the  soldier's,  his  lips  touched  with  per- 
suasion which  Chatham  and  Pericles  in  manhood  had 
not.  His  unaffected  lamentations  when  he  lifts  up  his 
voice  on  high;  or,  more  beautiful,  the  sobbing  child — 
the  face  all  liquid  grief,  as  he  tries  to  swallow  his  vexa- 
tion— soften  all  hearts  to  pity,  and  to  mirthful  and 
clamorous  compassion.  The  small  despot  asks  so  little 
that  all  reason  and  all  nature  are  on  his  side.  His 
ignorance  is  more  charming  than  all  knowledge,  and 
his  little  sins  more  bewitching  than  any  virtue.  His 
flesh  is  angel's  flesh,  all  alive.    "Infancy,"  said  Cole- 


38 


CHILDREN. 


ridge,  " presents  body  and  spirit  in  unity;  the  body  is 
all  animated."  All  day,  between  his  three  or  four- 
sleeps,  he  coos  like  a  pigeon-house,  sputters  and  spurs>. 
and  puts  on  his  faces  of  importance,  and  when  he  fasts, 
the  little  Pharisee  fails  not  to  sound  his  trumpet  before 
him.  By  lamplight,  he  delights  in  shadows  on  the 
wall;  by  daylight,  in  yellow  and  scarlet.  Carry  him. 
out  of  doors — he  is  overpowered  by  the  light  and  by 
the  extent  of  natural  objects,  and  is  silent.  Then  pres- 
ently begins  his  use  of  his  fingers,  and  he  studies  power 
— the  lesson  of  his  race. 

Not  without  design  has  God  implanted  in  the  mater- 
nal breast  that  strong  love  of  their  children  which  is 
felt  everywhere.  This  lays  deep  and  broad  the  founda- 
tion for  the  child's  future  education  from  parental  hands.. 
Nor  without  designs  has  Christ  commanded,  "Feed 
my  lambs," — meaning  to  inculcate  upon  his  church  the- 
duty  of  caring  for  the  children  of  the  church  and  the 
world  at  the  earliest  possible  period.  Nor  can  parents 
and  all  well-wishers  to  humanity  be  too  earnest  and 
careful  to  fulfill  the  promptings  of  their  very  nature  and 
the  command  of  Christ  in  this  matter.  Influence  is  as 
quiet  and  imperceptible  on  the  child's  mind  as  the  fall- 
ing of  snowflakes  on  the  meadow.  One  cannot  tell  the 
hour  when  the  human  mind  is  not  in  the  condition  of 
receiving  impressions  from  exterior  moral  forces.  In 
innumerable  instances,  the  most  secret  and  unnoticed 
influences  have  been  in  operation  for  months  and  even 
years  to  break  down  the  strongest  barriers  of  the  human 
heart,  and  work  out  its  moral  ruin,  while  yet  the  fondest 
parents  and  friends  have  been  unaware  of  the  working" 


CHILDREN. 


3# 


of  such  unseen  agents  of  evil.  Not  all  at  once  does 
any  heart  become  utterly  bad.  The  error  is  in  this: 
that  parents  are  not  conscious  how  early  the  seeds  of 
vice  are  sown  and  take  root.  It  is  as  the  Gospel  de- 
clares, "While  men  slept,  the  enemy  came  and  sowed 
tares,  and  went  his  way."  If  this  then  is  the  error, 
how  shall  it  be  corrected,  and  what  is  the  antidote  to 
be  applied! 

Never  scold  children,  but  soberly  and  quietly  reprove. 
Do  not  employ  shame  except  in  extreme  cases.  The 
suffering  is  acute;  it  hurts  self-respect  in  the  child  to 
reprove  a  child  before  the  family;  to  ridicule  it,  to  tread 
down  its  feelings  ruthlessly,  is  to  wake  in  its  bosom: 
malignant  feelings.  A  child  is  defenseless;  he  is  not 
allowed  to  argue.  He  is  often  tried,  condemned,  and 
executed  in  a  second.  He  finds  himself  of  little  use. 
He  is  put  at  things  he  don't  care  for,  and  withheld  from 
things  which  he  does  like.  He  is  made  the  convenience 
of  grown-up  people;  is  hardly  supposed  to  have  any 
rights,  except  in  a  corner,  as  it  were;  is  sent  hither  and 
thither;  made  to  get  up  or  sit  down  for  everybody's 
convenience  but  his  own;  is  snubbed  and  catechised 
until  he  learns  to  dodge  government  and  elude  author- 
ity, and  then  be  whipped  for  being  "such  a  liar  that  no 
one  can  believe  you." 

They  will  not  trouble  you  long.  Children  grow  up — 
nothing  on  earth  grows  so  fast  as  children.  It  was  but 
yesterday,  and  that  lad  was  playing  with  tops,  a  buoy- 
ant  bo}^.  He  is  a  man,  and  gone  now!  There  is  no 
more  childhood  for  him  or  for  us.  Life  has  claimed 
him.    When  a  beginning  is  made,  it  is  like  a  raveling 


40 


CHILDREN. 


stocking;  stitch  by  stitch  gives  way  till  all  are  gone. 
The  house  has  not  a  child  in  it — there  is  no  more  noise 
in  the  hall — boys  rush  in  pell-mell;  it  is  very  orderly 
now.  There  are  no  more  skates  or  sleds,  bats,  balls 
or  strings  left  scattered  about.  Things  are  neat  enough 
now.  There  is  no  delay  for  sleepy  folks;  there  is  no 
longer  any  task,  before  you  lie  down,  of  looking  after 
anybody,  and  tucking  up  the  bedclothes.  There  are  no 
disputes  to  settle,  nobody  to  get  off  to  school,  no  com- 
plaint, no  opportunities  for  impossible  things,  no  rips  to 
mend,  no  fingers  to  tie  up,  no  faces  to  be  washed,  or 
collars  to  be  arranged.  There  never  was  such  peace 
in  the  house!  It  would  sound  like  music  to  have  some 
feet  to  clatter  down  the  front  stairs!  Oh  for  some  chil- 
dren^ noise!  What  used  to  ail  us,  that  we  were  hush- 
ing their  loud  laugh,  checking  their  noisy  frolic,  and 
reproving  their  slamming  and  banging  the  doors?  We 
wish  our  neighbors  would  only  lend  us  an  urchin  or  two 
to  make  a  little  noise  in  these  premises.  A  home  with- 
out children!  It  is  like  a  lantern  and  no  candle;  a 
garden  and  no  flowers;  a  vine  and  no  grapes;  a  brook 
and  no  water  gurgling  and  gushing  in  its  channel.  We 
wrant  to  be  tired,  to  be  vexed,  to  be  run  over,  to  hear 
children  at  work  with  all  its  varieties. 

Bishop  Earle  says:  "A  child  is  man  in  a  small  letter, 
yet  the  best  copy  of  Adam,  before  he  tasted  of  Eve  or 
the  apple;  and  he  is  happy  whose  small  practice  in  the 
world  can  only  write  his  character.  His  soul  is  yet  a 
white  paper  unscribbled  with  observations  of  the  world, 
wherewith,  at  length,  it  becomes  a  blurred  note-book. 
He  is  purely  happy,  because  he  knows  no  evil,  nor  hath 


YOUTH. 


41 


made  means  by  sin  to  be  acquainted  with  misery.  He 
arrives  not  at  the  mischief  of  being  wise,  nor  endures 
evils  to  come,  by  foreseeing  them.  He  kisses  and  loves 
all,  and,  when  the  smart  of  the  rod  is  past,  smiles  on 
his  beater.  The  older  he  grows,  he  is  a  stair  lower 
from  God.  He  is  the  Christian's  example,  and  the  old 
man's  relapse;  the  one  imitates  his  pureness,  and  the 
other  falls  into  his  simplicity.  Could  he  put  off  his 
body  with  his  little  coat,  he  had  got  eternity  without  a 
burden,  and  exchanged  but  one  heaven  for  another." 

Children  are  more  easily  led  to  be  good  by  examples 
of  loving  kindness,  and  tales  of  well-doing  in  others, 
than  threatened  into  obedience  by  records  of  sin,  crime 
and  punishment.  Then,  on  the  infant  mind  impress 
sincerity,  truth,  honesty,  benevolence  and  their  kindred 
virtues,  and  the  welfare  of  your  child  will  be  insured 
not  only  during  this  life,  but  the  life  to  come.  Oh,  what 
a  responsibility  to  form  a  creature,  the  frailest  and  feeb- 
lest that  heaven  has  made,  into  the  intelligent  and  fear- 
less sovereign  of  the  whole  animated  creation,  the 
interpreter  and  adorer  and  almost  the  representative  of 
Divinity, 


Men  glory  in  raising  great  and  magnificent  struc- 
tures and  find  a  secret  pleasure  to  see  sets  of  their  own 
planting  grow  up  and  flourish;  but  it  is  a  greater  and 
more  glorious  work  to  build  up  a  man;  to  see  a  youth 


42 


YOUTH. 


of  our  own  planting,  from  the  small  beginnings  and 
advantages  we  have  given  him,  to  grow  up  into  a  con- 
siderable fortune,  to  take  root  in  the  world,  and  to  shoot 
up  into  such  a  height,  and  spread  his  branches  so  wide, 
that  we  who  first  planted  him  may  ourselves  rind  com- 
fort and  shelter  under  his  shadow. 

Much  of  our  early  gladness  vanishes  utterly  from  our 
memory;  we  can  never  recall  the  joy  with  which  we 
laid  our  heads  on  our  mother's  bosom,  or  rode  our 
father's  back  in  childhood ;  doubtless  that  joy  is  wrought 
up  into  our  nature  as  the  sunlight  of  long  past  morn- 
ings is  wrought  up  in  the  soft  mellowness  of  the  apricot. 

The  time  will  soon  come  —  if  it  has  not  already — 
when  you  must  part  from  those  who  have  surrounded 
the  same  paternal  board,  who  mingled  with  you  in  the 
gay-hearted  joys  of  childhood,  and  the  opening  promise 
of  youth.  New  cares  will  attend  you  in  new  situations; 
and  the  relations  you  form,  or  the  business  you  pursue, 
ma)7  call  you  far  from  the  "play-place"  of  your  "early 
days."  In  the  unseen  future,  your  brothers  and  sisters 
may  be  sundered  from  you;  your  lives  may  be  spent 
apart;  and  in  death  you  may  be  divided;  and  of  you  it 
may  be  said — 

"  They  grew  in  beauty,  side  by  side, 
They  filled  one  home  with  glee; 
Their  graves  are  severed  far  and  wide, 
By  mount,  and  stream,  and  sea." 

Let  your  own  home  be  the  cynosure  of  your  affec- 
tions, the  spot  where  your  highest  desires  are  concen- 
trated.   Do  this,  and  you  will  prove,  not  only  the  hope. 


YOUTH. 


43 


but  the  stay  of  your  kindred  and  home.  Your  per- 
sonal character  will  elevate  the  whole  family.  Others 
may  become  degenerate  sons,  and  bring  the  gray  hairs 
of  their  parents  with  sorrow  to  the  grave.  But  you 
will  be  the  pride  and  staff  of  a  mother,  and  an  honor  to 
your  sire.  You  will  establish  their  house,  give  peace 
to  their  pillow,  and  be  a  memorial  to  their  praise. 

Spend  your  evening  hours,  boys,  at  home.  You  may 
make  them  among  the  most  agreeable  and  profitable 
of  your  lives,  and  when  vicious  companions  would 
tempt  you  away,  remember  that  God  has  said,  uCast 
not  in  thy  lot  with  them;  walk  thou  not  in  their  way; 
refrain  thy  foot  from  their  path.  They  lay  in  wait  for 
their  own  blood;  they  lurk  privily  for  their  own  lives. 
But  walk  thou  in  the  way  of  good  men,  and  keep  the 
paths  of  the  righteous."' 

Keep  good  company  or  none.  Never  be  idle.  If  your 
hands  cannot  be  usefully  employed,  attend  to  the  culti- 
vation of  your  mind.  Always  speak  the  truth.  Make 
few  promises.  Live  up  to  your  engagements.  Keep 
your  own  secrets,  if  you  have  any.  When  you  speak 
to  a  person,  look  him  in  the  face.  Good  company  and 
good  conversation  are  the  very  sinews  of  virtue.  Good 
character  is  above  all  things  else.  Your  character 
cannot  be  essentially  injured  except  by  your  own  acts. 
If  one  speak  evil  of  you,  let  your  life  be  such  that  none 
will  believe  him.  Drink  no  kind  of  intoxicating  liquors. 
Always  live,  misfortune  excepted,  within  your  income. 
When  you  retire  to  bed,  think  over  what  you  have  been 
doing  during  the  day.  Make  no  haste  to  be  rich  if  you 
would  prosper.    Small  and  steady  gains  give  compe- 


44 


YOUTH. 


tency  with  tranquility  of  mind.  Never  play  at  any 
kind  of  game  of  chance.  Avoid  temptation  through 
fear  that  you  may  not  be  able  to  withstand  it.  Never 
run  into  debt,  unless  you  see  a  way  to  get  out  again. 
Never  borrow  if  you  can  possibly  avoid  it.  Never 
speak  evil  of  any  one.  Be  just  before  you  are  gener- 
ous. Keep  yourself  innocent  if  you  would  be  happy. 
Save  when  you  are  young  to  spend  when  you  are  old. 
Never  think  that  which  you  do  for  religion  is  time  or 
money  misspent.  Always  go  to  meeting  when  you  can. 
Read  some  portion  of  the  Bible  every  day.  Often  think 
of  death,  and  your  accountability  to  God. 

An  honest,  industrious  boy  is  always  wanted.  He 
will  be  sought  for;  his  services  will  be  in  demand;  he 
will  be  respected  and  loved;  he  wrill  he  spoken  of  in 
w^ords  of  high  commendation;  he  will  always  have  a 
home;  he  will  grow  up  to  be  a  man  of  known  worth 
and  established  character. 

He  will  be  wanted.  The  merchant  will  want  him  for 
a  salesman  or  a  clerk;  the  master  mechanic  will  want 
him  for  an  apprentice  or  a  journeyman;  those  with  a  job 
to  let  will  want  him  for  a  contractor;  clients  will  want 
him  for  a  lawyer;  patients  for  a  physician;  religious 
-congregations  for  a  pastor ;  parents  for  a  teacher  of  their 
children;  and  the  people  for  an  officer. 

He  will  be  wanted.  Townsmen  will  want  him  as  a 
■citizen;  acquaintances  as  a  neighbor;  neighbors  as  a 
friend;  families  as  a  visitor;  the  world  as  an  acquaint- 
ance; nay,  girls  will  want  him  for  a  beau  and  finally 
for  a  husband. 

To  both  parents,  when  faithful,  a  child  is  indebted 


YOUTH. 


45 


beyond  estimation.  If  one  begins  to  enumerate  their 
claims,  to  set  in  order  their  labors,  and  recount  their 
sacrifices  and  privations,  he  is  soon  compelled  to  desist 
from  his  task.  He  is  constrained  to  acknowledge  that 
their  love  for  him  is  surpassed  only  by  that  of  the  great 
Spring  of  all  good,  whom — to  represent  in  the  strongest 
language  our  measureless  indebtedness  to  Him — we 
call  "Our  Father  in  Heaven." 

Parents  do  wrong  in  keeping  their  children  hanging 
around  home,  sheltered  and  enervated  by  parental  in- 
dulgence. The  eagle  does  better.  It  stirs  up  its  nest 
when  the  young  eagles  are  able  to  fly.  They  are  com- 
pelled to  shift  for  themselves,  for  the  old  eagle  literally 
turns  them  out,  and  at  the  same  time  tears  all  the  down 
and  feathers  from  the  nest.  'Tis  this  rude  and  rough 
experience  that  makes  the  king  of  birds  so  fearless  in 
his  flight  and  so  expert  in  the  pursuit  of  prey.  It  is  a 
misfortune  to  be  born  with  a  silver  spoon  in  your 
mouth,  for  you  have  it  to  carry  and  plague  you  all  your 
days.  Riches  often  hang  like  a  dead  weight,  yea  like 
a  millstone  about  the  necks  of  ambitious  young  men.. 
Had  Benjamin  Franklin  or  George  Law  been  brought 
up  in  the  lap  of  affluence  and  ease,  they  would  probably 
never-  have  been  heard  of  by  the  world  at  large.  It  was 
the  making  of  the  one  that  he  ran  away,  and  of  the 
other  that  he  was  turned  out  of  doors.  Early  thrown 
upon  their  own  resources,  they  acquired  the  energy 
and  skill  to  overcome  resistance,  and  to  grapple  with 
the  difficulties  that  beset  their  pathway.  And  here  I 
think  they  learned  the  most  important  lesson  of  their 
lives — a  lesson  that  developed  their  manhood — forcing 


46 


YOUTH. 


upon  them  Necessity,  the  most  useful  and  inexorable 
of  masters.  There  is  nothing  like  being  bound  out, 
turned  out,  or  even  kicked  out,  to  compel  a  man  to  do 
for  himself.  Rough  handling  of  the  last  sort  has  often 
made  drunken  men  sober.  Poor  boys,  though  at  the 
foot  of  the  hill,  should  remember  that  every  step  they 
take  toward  the  goal  of  wealth  and  honor  gives  them 
increased  energy  and  power.  They  have  a  -purchase, 
and  obtain  a  momentum,  the  rich  man's  son  never 
knows.  The  poor  man's  son  has  the  furthest  to  go,  but 
without  knowing  it  he  is  turning  the  longest  lever,  and 
that  with  the  utmost  vim  and  vigor.  Boys,  do  not  sigh 
for  the  capital  or  indulgence  of  the  rich,  but  use  the 
capital  you  have — I  mean  those  God-given  powers 
which  every  healthy  youth  of  good  habits  has  in  and 
of  himself.  All  a  man  wants  in  this  life  is  a  skillful 
hand,  a  well  informed  mind,  and  a  good  heart.  In  our 
happy  land,  and  in  these  favored  times  of  libraries, 
Lyceums,  liberty,  religion  and  education,  the  humblest 
and  poorest  can  aim  at  the  greatest  usefulness,  and  the 
highest  excellence,  with  a  prospect  of  success  that  calls 
forth  all  the  endurance,  perseverance  and  industry  that 
is  in  man. 

We  live  in  an  age  marked  by  its  lack  of  veneration. 
Old  institutions,  however  sacred,  are  now  fearlessly,  and 
often  wantonly,  assailed;  the  aged  are  not  treated  with 
deference;  and  fathers  and  mothers  are  addressed  with 
rudeness.  The  command  now  runs,  one  would  think, 
not  in  the  good  old  tenor  of  the  Bible,  "  Children  obe}^ 
your  parents  in  the  Lord,  for  this  is  right,"  but  thus: 
Parents  obey  your  children.    Some  may  go  so  far  as  to 


YOUTH. 


47 


say  this  is  right.  "Why  should  I,  who  am  so  much 
superior  to  my  father  and  my  mother,  bow  down  before 
them?  Were  they  equal  to  me;  did  they  appear  so 
well  in  society;  and,  especially,  were  they  not  in  desti- 
tute circumstances  I  could  respect  them.  But"  —  my 
3'oung  friend,  pause  —  God,  nature,  and  humanity  forbid 
you  to  pursue  this  strain.  Because  our  parents  are  poor, 
are  we  absolved  from  all  obligations  to  love  and  respect 
them?  Nay,  if  our  father  was  in  narrow  circumstances, 
and  still  did  all  that  he  could  for  us,  we  owe  him, 
instead  of  less  regard,  an  hundred  fold  the  more.  If  our 
mother,  with  scanty  means,  could  promote  our  comfort 
and  train  us  up  as  she  did,  then,  for  the  sake  of  reason, 
of  right,  of  common  compassion,  let  us  not  despise  her 
in  her  need. 

Let  every  child,  having  any  pretence  to  heart,  or 
manliness,  or  piety,  and  who  is  so  fortunate  as  to  have 
a  father  or  mother  living,  consider  it  a  sacred  duty  to 
consult  at  any  reasonable,  personal  sacrifice,  the  known 
wishes  of  such  a  parent,  until  that  parent  is  no  more; 
and  our  word  for  it  the  recollection  of  the  same  through 
the  after  pilgrimage  of  life  will  sweeten  every  sorrow, 
will  brighten  every  gladness,  will  sparkle  every  tear 
drop  with  a  joy  ineffable.  But  be  selfish  still,  have  your 
own  way,  consult  your  own  inclinations,  yield  to  the 
bent  of  your  own  desires,  regardless  of  a  parent's  com- 
mands, and  counsels,  and  beseechings,  and  tears,  and  as 
the  Lord  liveth  your  life  will  be  a  failure;  because,  "the 
eye  that  mocketh  at  his  father,  and  despiseth  to  obey 
his  mother,  the  ravens  of  the  valley  shall  pick  it  out,  and 
the  young  eagle  shall  eat  it." 


48 


HOME. 


Consider,  finally,  that  if  you  live  on,  the  polluted  joys 
of  youth  cannot  be  the  joys  of  old  age;  though  its  guilt 
and  the  sting  left  behind,  will  endure.  I  know  well  that 
the  path  of  strict  virtue  is  steep  and  rugged.  But,  for 
the  stern  discipline  of  temperance,  the  hardship  of  self- 
denial,  the  crushing  of  appetite  and  passion,  there  will 
be  the  blessed  recompense  of  a  cheerful,  healthful  man- 
hood, and  an  honorable  old  age.  Yes,  higher  and  better 
than  all  temporal  returns,  live  for  purity  of  speech  and 
thought;  live  for  an  incorruptible  character;  have  the 
courage  to  begin  the  great  race,  and  the  energy  to 
pursue  the  glorious  prize;  foresee  your  danger,  arm 
against  it,  trust  in  God,  and  you  will  have  nothing  to 
fear. 


What  a  hallowed  name!  How  full  of  enchantment 
and  how  dear  to  the  heart!  Home  is  the  magic  circle 
within  which  the  weary  spirit  finds  refuge;  it  is  the 
sacred  asylum  to  which  the  care-worn  heart  retreats  to 
find  rest  from  the  toils  and  inquietudes  of  life. 

Ask  the  lone  wanderer  as  he  plods  his  tedious  way, 
bent  with  the  weight  of  age,  and  white  with  the  frost 
of  years,  ask  him  what  is  home?  He  will  tell  you  "  it 
is  a  green  spot  in  memory;  an  oasis  in  the  desert;  a 
center  about  which  the  fondest  recollections  of  his 
grief-oppressed  heart  cling  with  all  the  tenacity  of 
youths  first  love.    It  was  once  a  glorious,  a  happy 


UOME. 


49 


reality,  but  now  it  rests  only  as  an  image  of  the  mind." 

Home!  That  name  touches  every  fiber  of  the  soul, 
and  strikes  every  chord  of  the  human  heart  with  its 
angelic  fingers.  Nothing  but  death  can  break  its  spell. 
What  tender  associations  are  linked  with  home!  What 
pleasing  images  and  deep  emotions  it  awakens!  It  calls 
up  the  fondest  memories  of  life  and  opens  in  our  nature 
the  purest,  deepest,  richest  gush  of  consecrated  thought 
and  feeling. 

Some  years  ago  some  twenty  thousand  people  gath- 
ered in  the  old  Castle  Garden,  New  York,  to  hear 
Jennie  Lind  sing,  as  no  other  songstress  ever  had  sung, 
the  sublime  compositions  of  Beethoven,  Handel,  etc. 
At  length  the  Swedish  Nightingale  thought  of  her 
home,  paused,  and  seemed  to  fold  her  wings  for  a 
higher  flight.  She  began  with  deep  emotion  to  pour 
forth  "Home,  Sweet  Home."  The  audience  could  not 
stand  it.  An  uproar  of  applause  stopped  the  music. 
Tears  gushed  from  those  thousands  like  rain.  Bee- 
thoven and  Handel  were  forgotten.  After  a  moment 
the  song  came  again,  seemingly  as  from  heaven,  almost 
angelic.  Home,  that  was  the  word  that  bound  as  with 
a  spell  twenty  thousand  souls,  and  Howard  Payne  tri- 
umphed over  the  great  masters  of  song.  When  we 
look  at  the  brevity  and  simplicity  of  this  home  song, 
we  are  ready  to  ask,  what  is  the  charm  that  lies  con- 
cealed in  it?  Why  does  the  dramatist  and  poet  find 
his  reputation  resting  on  so  apparently  narrow  a  basis? 
The  answer  is  easy.  Next  to  religion,  the  deepest  and 
most  ineradicable  sentiment  in  the  human  soul  is  that  of 
the  home  affections.    Every  heart  vibrates  to  this  theme. 


50 


HOME. 


Home  has  an  influence  which  is  stronger  than  death. 
It  is  law  to  our  hearts,  and  binds  us  with  a  spell  which 
neither  time  nor  change  can  break;  the  darkest  vil- 
lainies which  have  disgraced  humanity  cannot  neutralize 
it.  Gray-haired  and  demon  guilt  will  make  his  dismal 
cell  the  sacred  urn  of  tears  wept  over  the  memories  of 
home,  and  these  will  soften  and  melt  into  tears  of  peni- 
tence even  the  heart  of  adamant. 

Ask  the  little  child  what  is  home  ?  You  will  find 
that  to  him  it  is  the  world — he  knows  no  other.  The 
father's  love,  the  mother's  smile,  the  sister's  embrace, 
the  brother's  welcome,  throw  about  his  home  a  heavenly 
halo,  and  make  it  as  attractive  to  him  as  the  home  of 
the  angels.  Home  is  the  spot  where  the  child  pours 
out  all  its  complaints,  and  it  is  the  grave  of  all  its  sor- 
rows. Childhood  has  its  sorrows  and  its  grievances, 
but  home  is  the  place  where  these  are  soothed  and  ban- 
ished by  the  sweet  lullaby  of  a  fond  mother's  voice. 

Was  paradise  an  abode  of  purity  and  peace?  or  will 
the  New  Eden  above  be  one  of  unmingled  beatitude? 
Then  "  the  Paradise  of  Childhood,"  "  the  Eden  of 
Home,",  are  names  applied  to  the  family  abode.  In 
that  paradise,  all  may  appear  as  smiling  and  serene  to 
childhood  as  the  untainted  garden  did  to  unfallen  man; 
even  the  remembrance  of  it,  amid  distant  scenes  of  woe, 
has  soothed  some  of  the  saddest  hours  of  life,  and 
crowds  of  mourners  have  spoken  of 

"  A  home,  that  paradise  below 
Of  sunshine,  and  of  flowers, 
Where  hallowed  joys  perennial  flow 
By  calm  sequester'd  bowers/' 


HOME. 


51 


There  childhood  nestles  like  a  bird  which  has  built 
its  abode  among  roses;  there  the  cares  and  the  cold- 
ness of  earth  are,  as  long  as  possible,  averted.  Flowers 
there  bloom,  or  fruits  invite  on  every  side,  and  there 
paradise  would  indeed  be  restored,  could  mortal  power 
ward  off  the  consequences  of  sin.  This  new  garden 
of  the  Lord  would  then  abound  in  beauty  unsullied,  and 
trees  of  the  Lord's  planting,  bearing  fruit  to  his  glory, 
would  be  found  in  plenty  there — it  would  be  reality, 
and  not  mere  poetry,' to  speak  of 

"  My  own  dear  quiet  home, 
The  Eden  of  my  heart." 

Home  of  my  childhood!  What  words  fall  upon  the 
ear  with  so  much  of  music  in  their  cadence  as  those 
which  recall  the  scenes  of  innocent  and  happy  child- 
hood, now  numbered  with  the  memories  of  the  past! 
How  fond  recollection  delights  to  dwell  upon  the  events 
which  marked  our  early  pathway,  when  the  unbroken 
home-circle  presented  a  scene  of  loveliness  vainly  sought 
but  in  the  bosom  of  a  happy  family!  Intervening  years 
have  not  dimmed  the  vivid  coloring  with  which  mem- 
ory has  adorned  those  joyous  hours  of  youthful  inno- 
cence. We  are  again  borne  on  the  wings  of  imagina- 
tion to  the  place  made  sacred  by  the  remembrance  of 
a  father's  care,  a  mother's  love,  and  the  cherished  asso- 
ciations of  brothers  and  sisters. 

Home !  how  often  we  hear  persons  speak  of  the  home 
of  their  childhood.  Their  minds  seem  to  delight  in 
dwelling  upon  the  recollections  of  joyous  days  spent 
beneath  the  parental  roof,  when  their  young  and  happy 


52 


HOME. 


hearts  were  as  light  and  free  as  the  birds  who  made  the 
woods  resound  with  the  melody  of  their  cheerful  voices. 
What  a  blessing  it  is,  when  weary  with  care  and  bur- 
dened with  sorrow,  to  have  a  home  to  which  we  can  go 
and  there,  in  the  midst  of  friends  we  love,  forget  our 
troubles  and  dwell  in  peace  and  quietness. 

There  is  no  happiness  in  life,  there  is  no  misery  like 
that  growing  out  of  the  dispositions  which  consecrate 
or  desecrate  a  home.  Peace  at  home,  that  is  the  boon. 
"He  is  happiest,  be  lie  king  or  peasant,  who  finds  peace 
in  his  home."  Home  should  be  made  so  truly  home 
that  the  weary  tempted  heart  could  turn  toward  it  any- 
where on  the  dusty  highway  of  life  and  receive  light 
and  strength.  Should  be  the  sacred  refuge  of  our  lives, 
whether  rich  or  poor.  The  affections  and  loves  of  home 
are  graceful  things,  especially  among  the  poor.  The 
ties  that  bind  the  wealthy  and  the  proud  to  home  may 
be  forged  on  earth,  but  those  which  link  the  poor  man 
to  his  humble  hearth  are  of  the  true  metal  and  bear  the 
stamp  of  heaven.  These  affections  and  loves  constitute 
the  poetry  of  human  life,  and,  so  far  as  our  present 
existence  is  concerned  with  all  the  domestic  relations, 
are  worth  more  than  all  other  social  ties.  They  give  the 
first  throb  to  the  heart  and  unseal  the  deep  fountains  of 
its  love.  Home  is  the  chief  school  of  human  virtue. 
Its  responsibilities,  joys,  sorrows,  smiles,  tears,  hopes, 
and  solicitudes  form  the  chief  interest  of  human  life. 

There  is  nothing  in  the  world  which  is  so  venerable 
as  the  character  of  parents;  nothing  so  intimate  and 
endearing  as  the  relation  of  husband  and  wife;  nothing 
so  tender  as  that  of  children;  nothing  so  lovely  as  those 


HOME. 


53 


of  brothers  and  sisters.  The  little  circle  is  made  one 
by  a  singular  union  of  the  affections.  The  only  foun- 
tain in  the  wilderness  of  life,  where  man  drinks  of  water 
totally  unmixed  with  bitter  ingredients,  is  that  which 
gushes  for  him  in  the  calm  and  shady  recess  of  domes- 
tic life.  Pleasure  may  heat  the  heart  with  artificial 
excitement,  ambition  may  delude  it  with  golden  dreams, 
war  may  eradicate  its  fine  fibres  and  diminish  its  sensi- 
tiveness, but  it  is  only  domestic  love  that  can  render  it 
truly  happy. 

Even  as  the  sunbeam  is  composed  of  millions  of 
minute  rays,  the  home  life  must  be  constituted  of  little 
tendernesses,  kind  looks,  sweet  laughter,  gentle  words, 
loving  counsels;  it  must  not  be  like  the  torch-blaze. of 
natural  excitement  which  is  easily  quenched,  but  like 
the  serene,  chastened  light  which  burns  as  safely  in  the 
dry  east  wind  as  in  the  stillest  atmosphere.  Let  each 
bear  the  other's  burden  the  while — let  each  cultivate 
the  mutual  confidence  which  is  a  gift  capable  of  increase 
and  improvement — and  soon  it  will  be  found  that  kind- 
liness will  spring  up  on  every  side,  displacing  constitu- 
tional unsuitability,  want  of  mutual  knowledge,  even  as 
we  have  seen  sweet  violets  and  primroses  dispelling  the 
gloom  of  the  gray  sea-rocks. 

There  is  nothing  on  earth  so  beautiful  as  the  house- 
hold on  which  Christian  love  forever  smiles,  and  where 
religion  walks  a  counselor  and  a  friend.  No  cloud  can 
darken  it,  for  its  twin-stars  are  centered  in  the  soul. 
No  storms  can  make  it  tremble,  for  it  has  a  heavenly 
support  and  a  heavenly  anchoiy 

Home  is  a  place  of  refuge.    Tossed  day  by  day 

I 


54 


HOME. 


upon  the  rough  and  stormy  ocean  of  life — harassed 
by  worldly  cares,  and  perplexed  by  worldly  inqui- 
etudes, the  weary  spirit  yearns  after  repose.  It  seeks 
and  finds  it  in  the  refuge  which  home  supplies.  Here 
the  mind  is  at  rest;  the  heart's  turmoil  becomes  quiet , 
and  the  spirit  basks  in  the  peaceful  delights  of  domes- 
tic love. 

Yes,  home  is  a  -place  of  rest — we  feel  it  so  when  we 
seek  and  enter  it  after  the  busy  cares  and  trials  of  the 
day  are  over.  We  may  find  joy  elsewhere,  but  it  is 
not  the  joy — the  satisfaction  of  home.  Of  the  former 
the  heart  may  soon  tire;  of  the  latter,  never.  In  the 
former  there  is  much  of  cold  formality;  much  heart- 
lessness  under  the  garb  of  friendship,  but  in  the  latter 
it  is  all  heart — all  friendship  of  the  purest,  truest  char- 
acter. 

The  road  along  which  the  man  of  business  travels  in 
pursuit  of  competence  or  wealth  is  not  a  Macadamized 
one,  nor  does  it  ordinarily  lead  through  pleasant  scenes 
and  by  well-springs  of  delight.  On  the  contrary,  it  is 
a  rough  and  rugged  path,  beset  with  "  wait-a-bit "  thorns 
and  full  of  pit-falls,  which  can  only  be  avoided  by  the 
watchful  care  of  circumspection.  After  every  day's 
journey  over  this  worse  than  rough  turnpike  road,  the 
wayfarer  needs  something  more  than  rest;  he  requires 
solace,  and  he  deserves  it.  He  is  weaVy  of  the  dull 
prose  of  life,  and  athirst  for  the  poetry.  Happy  is  the 
business  man  who  can  find  that  solace  and  that  poetry 
at  home.  Warm  greetings  from  loving  hearts,  fond 
glances  from  bright  eyes,  the  welcome  shouts  of  chil- 
dren, the  many  thousand  little  arrangements  for  our 

i 


BOMB. 


55 


comfort  and  enjoyment  that  silently  tell  of  thoughtful 
and  expectant  love,  the  gentle  ministrations  that  disen- 
cumber us  into  an  old  and  easy  seat  before  we  are 
aware  of  it ;  these  and  like  tokens  of  affection  and  sym- 
pathy constitute  the  poetry  which  reconciles  us  to  the 
prose  of  life.  Think  of  this,  ye  wives  and  daughters 
of  business  men!  Think  of  the  toils,  the  anxieties,  the 
mortification,  and  wear  that  fathers  undergo  to  secure 
for  you  comfortable  homes,  and  compensate  them  for 
their  trials  by  making  them  happ}^  by  their  own  fire- 
sides. 

Is  it  not  true,  that  much  of  a  man's  energy  and  suc- 
cess, as  well  as  happiness,  depends  upon  the  character 
of  his  home?  Secure  there,  he  goes  forth  bravely  to 
encounter  the  trials  of  life.  It  encourages  him,  to  think 
of  his  pleasant  home.  It  is  his  point  of  rest.  The 
thought  of  a  dear  wife  shortens  the  distance  of  a  jour- 
ney, and  alleviates  the  harassings  of  business.  It  is  a 
reserved  power  to  fall  back  upon.  Home  and  home 
friends!  How  dear  they  are  to  us  all!  Well  might 
we  love  to  linger  on  the  picture  of  home  friends! 
When  all  other  friends  prove  false,  home  friends, 
removed  from  every  bias  but  love,  are  the  steadfast 
and  sure  stays  of  our  peace  of  soul,  —  are  best  and 
dearest  when  the  hour  is  darkest  and  the  danger  of 
evil  the  greatest.  But  if  one  have  none  to  care  for 
him  at  home,  —  if  there  be  neglect,  or  love  of  absence, 
or  coldness,  in  our  home  and  on  our  hearth,  then,  even 
if  we  prosper  without,  it  is  dark  indeed  within!  It  is 
not  seldom  that  we  can  trace  alienation  and  dissipation 
to  this  source.    If  no  wife  or  sister  care  for  him  who 


56 


HOME. 


returns  from  his  toil,  well  may  he  despair  of  life's  best 
blessings.  Home  is  nothing  but  a  name  without  home 
friends. 

The  sweetest  type  of  heaven  is  home — nay,  heaven 
itself  is  the  home  for  whose  acquisition  we  are  to  strive 
the  most  strongly.  Home,  in  one  form  and  another,  is 
the  great  object  of  life.  It  stands  at  the  end  of  every 
day's  labor,  and  beckons  us  to  its  bosom;  and  life  would 
be  cheerless  and  meaningless  did  we  not  discern  across 
the  river  that  divides  it  from  the  life  beyond,  glimpses 
of  the  pleasant  mansions  prepared  for  us. 

Heaven!  that  land  of  quiet  rest — toward  which  those, 
who,  worn  down  and  tired  with  the  toils  of  earth,  direct 
their  frail  barks  over  the  troubled  waters  of  life,  and 
after  a  long  and  dangerous  passage,  find  it — safe  in  the 
haven  of  eternal  bliss.  Heaven  is  the  home  that  awaits 
us  beyond  the  grave.  There  the  friendships  formed  on 
earth,  and  which  cruel  death  |ias  severed,  are  never 
more  to  be  broken;  and  parted  friends  shall  meet  again, 
never  more  to  be  separated. 

It  is  an  inspiring  hope  that,  when  we  separate  here 
on  earth  at  the  summons  of  death's  angel,  and  when  a 
few  more  years  have  rolled  over  the  heads  of  those 
remaining,  if  "faithful  unto  death,"  we  shall  meet  again 
in  heaven,  our  eternal  home,  there  to  dwell  in  the  pres- 
ence of  our  heavenly  Father,  and  go  no  more  out  for- 
ever, i 

At  the  best  estate,  my  friends,  we  are  only  pilgrims 
and  strangers.  Heaven  is  to  be  our  eternal  home. 
Death  will  never  knock  at  the  door  of  that  mansion, 
and  in  all  that  land  there  will  not  be  a  single  grave. 


HOME. 


57 


Aged  parents  rejoice  very  much  when  on  Christmas 
Day  or  Thanksgiving  Day  they  have  their  children  at 
home;  but  there  is  almost  always  a  son  or  a  daughter 
absent  —  absent  from  the  country,  perhaps  absent  from 
the  world.  But  Oh,  how  our  Heavenly  Father  will 
rejoice  in  the  long  thanksgiving  day  of  heaven,  when 
He  has  all  His  children  with  Him  in  glory !  How  glad 
brothers  and  sisters  will  be  to  meet  after  so  long  a  sep- 
aration! Perhaps  a  score  of  years  ago  they  parted  at 
the  door  of  the  tomb.  Now  they  meet  again  at  the 
door  of  immortality.  Once  they  looked  through  a 
glass  darkly.  Now,  face  to  face,  corruption,  incorrup- 
tion — mortality,  immortality.  Where  are  now  all  their 
sorrows  and  temptations  and  trials?  Overwhelmed  in 
the  Red  Sea  of  death,  while  they,  dry-shod,  marched 
into  glory.  Gates  of  jasper,  capstone  of  amethyst, 
thrones  of  dominion  do  not  so  much  affect  my  soul  as 
the  thought  of  home.  «<Once  there,  let  earthly  sorrows 
howl  like  storms  and  roll  like  seas.  Home!  Let  thrones 
rot  and  empires  wither.  Home!  Let  the  world  die  in 
earthquake  struggles  and  be  buried  amid  procession  of 
planets  and  dirge  of  spheres.  Home !  Let  everlasting 
ages  roll  in  irresistible  sweepj  Home !  No  sorrow,  no 
crying,  no  tears,  no  death;  but  home!  sweet  home! 
Beautiful  home!  Glorious  home!  Everlasting  home! 
Home  with  each  other!  Home  with  angels!  Home 
with  God !  Home,  Home!  v  Through  the  rich  grace 
of  Christ  Jesus,  may  we  all  reach  it.. 


V 


58 


FAMILY  WORSHIP. 


A  prayerless  family  cannot  be  otherwise  than  irre- 
ligious. They  who  daily  pray  in  their  homes,  do  well; 
they  that  not  only  pray,  but  read  the  Bible,  do  better; 
but  they  do  best  of  all,  who  not  only  pray  and  read  the 
Bible,  but  sing  the  praises  of  God. 

What  scene  can  be  more  lovely  on  earth,  more  like  , 
the  heavenly  home,  and  more  pleasing  to  God,  than 
that  of  a  pious  family  kneeling  with  one  accord  around 
the  home-altar,  and  uniting  their  supplications  to  their 
Father  in  heaven!  How  sublime  the  act  of  those 
parents  who  thus  pray  for  the  blessing  of  God  upon 
their  household!  How  lovely  the  scene  of  a  pious 
mother  gathering  her  little  ones  around  her  at  the  bed- 
side, and  teaching  them  the  privilege  of  prayer!  And 
what  a  safeguard  is  this  devotion,  against  all  the  machi- 
nations of  Satan! 

It  is  this  which  makes  home  a  type  of  heaven,  the 
dwelling  place  of  God.  The  family  altar  is  heaven's 
threshold.  And  happy  are  those  children  who  at  that 
altar,  have  been  consecrated  by  a  father's  blessing,  bap- 
tized by  a  mother's  tears,  and  borne  up  to  heaven  upon 
their  joint  petitions,  as  a  voluntary  thank-offering  to 
God.  The  home  that  has  honored  God  with  an  altar 
of  devotion  may  well  be  called  blessed. 

The  influence  of  family  worship  is  great,  silent,  irre- 
sistible and  permanent.  Like  the  calm,  deep  stream,  it 
moves  on  in  silent,  but  overwhelming  power.  It  strikes 
its  roots  deep  into  the  human  heart,  and  spreads  its 
branches  wide  over  the  whole  being,  like  the  lily  that 


FAMILY  WORSHIP. 


59 


bears  the  tempest,  and  the  Alpine  flower  that  leans  its 
cheek  upon  the  bosom  of  eternal  snows  —  it  is'  exerted 
amid  the  wildest  storms  of  life,  and  breathes  a  softening 
spell  in  our  bosom,  even  when  a  heartless  world  is 
paying  up  the  foundations  of  sympathy  and  love. 

It  affords  home  security  and  happiness,  removes 
family  friction,  and  causes  all  the  complicated  wheels 
of  the  home  -  machinery  to  move  on  noiselessly  and 
smoothly.  It  promotes  union  and  harmony,  expunges 
all  selfishness,  allays  petulant  feelings  and  turbulent 
passions,  destroys  peevishness  of  temper,  and  makes 
home  intercourse  holy  and  delightful.  It  causes  the 
members  to  reciprocate  each  other's  affections,  hushes 
the  voice  of  recrimination,  and  exerts  a  softening  and 
harmonizing  influence  over  each  heart.  The  dew  of 
Hermon  falls  upon  the  home  where  prayer  is  wont  to 
be  made.  Its  members  enjoy  the  good  and  the  pleas- 
antness of  dwelling  together  in  unity.  It  gives  tone  and 
intensity  to  their  affections  and  sympathies;  it  throws  a 
sunshine  around  their  hopes  and  interests;  it  increases 
their  happiness,  and  takes  away  the  poignancy  of  their 
grief  and  sorrow.  It  availeth  much,  therefore,  both  for 
time  and  eternity.  Its  voice  has  sent  many  a  poor 
prodigal  home  to  his  father's  house.  Its  answer  has 
often  been,  "This  man  was  born  there!"  The  child, 
kneeling  beside  the  pious  mother,  and  pouring  forth  its 
infant  prayer  to  God,  must  attract  the  notice  of  the 
heavenly  host,  and  receive  into  its  soul  the  power  of  a 
new  life. 

But  in  order  to  do  this,  the  worship  must  be  regular 
and  devout,  and  the  whole  family  engage  in  it.  Some 


60 


FAMILY  WOMSHIP. 


families  are  not  careful  to  have  their  children  present 
when  they  worship.  This  is  very  wrong.  The  chil- 
dren, above  all  others,  are  benefited,  and  should  always 
be  present.  Some  do  not  teach  the  children  to  kneel 
during  prayer,  and  hence,  they  awkwardly  sit  in  their 
seats,  while  the  parents  kneel.  This  is  a  sad  mistake. 
If  they  do  not  kneel,  they  naturally  suppose  they  have 
no  part  or  lot  in  the  devotions,  and  soon  feel  that  it  is 
wrong  for  them  to  bow  before  the  Lord.  We  have 
seen  many  cases  where  grown  up  sons  and  daughters 
have  never  bent  the  knee  before  the  Lord,  and  thought 
it  wrong  to  kneel  till  they  were  Christians.  In  this  way 
they  were  made  more  shy  and  stubborn,  and  felt  that 
there  was  an  impassable  barrier  between  them  and 
Christ.  This  feeling  is  wrong,  and  unnecessary.  If 
family  worship  had  been  rightly  observed,  they  would 
have  felt  that  they  were  very  near  the  Savior,  and 
would  easily  be  inclined  to  give  their  hearts  to  him. 
Indeed,  children  thus  trained,  seldom  grow  to  maturity 
without  becoming  practical  Christians. 

Indeed,  in  itself,  it  embodies  a  hallowing  influence 
that  pleads  for  its  observance.  It  must  needs  be,  that 
trials  will  enter  a  household.  The  conflict  of  wishes, 
the  clashing  of  views,  and  a  thousand  other  causes,  will 
ruffle  the  temper,  and  produce  jar  and  friction  in  the 
machinery  of  the  family.  There  is  needed  then,  some 
daily  agency  that  shall  softly  enfold  the  homestead  with 
its  hallowed  and  soothing  power,  and  restore  the  fine, 
harmonious  play  of  its  various  parts.  The  father  needs 
that  which  shall  gently  lift  away  from  his  thoughts  the 
disquieting  burden  of  his  daily  business.    The -mother 


FAMIL  Y  WORSHIP. 


61 


that  which  shall  smooth  down  the  fretting  irritation  of 
her  unceasing  toil  and  trial;  and  the  child  and  domestic 
that  which  shall  neutralize  the  countless  agencies  of  evil 
that  ever  beset  them.  And  what  so  well  adapted  to  do 
this,  as  for  all  to  gather,  when  the  day  is  done,  around 
the  holy  page,  and  pour  a  united  supplication  and 
acknowledgment  to  that  sleepless  Power,  whose  protec- 
tion and  scrutiny  are  ever  around  their  path,  and  who 
will  bring  all  things  at  last  into  judgment?  And  when 
darker  and  sadder  days  begin  to  shadow  the  home, 
what  can  cheer  and  brighten  the  sinking  heart  so  finely 
as  this  standing  resort  to  that  fatherly  One  who  can 
make  the  tears  of  the  loneliest  sorrow  to  be  the  seed- 
pearls  of  the  brightest  crown  ?  See  what  home  becomes 
with  religion  as  its  life  and  rule.  Human  nature  is  there 
checked  and  moulded  by  the  amiable  spirit  and  lovely 
character  of  Jesus.  The  mind  is  expanded,  the  heart 
softened,  sentiments  refined,  passions  subdued,  hopes 
elevated,  pursuits  ennobled,  the  world  cast  into  the 
shade,  and  heaven  realized  as  the  first  prize.  The 
great  want  of  our  intellectual  and  moral  nature  is  here 
met,  and  home  education  becomes  impregnated  with 
the  spirit  and  elements  of  our  preparation  for  eternity. 

Compare  an  irreligious  home  with  this,  and  see  the 
vast  importance  of  family  worship.  It  is  a  moral  waste; 
its  members  move  in  the  putrid  atmosphere  of  vitiated 
feeling  and  misdirected  power.  Brutal  passions  become 
dominant;  we  hear  the  stern  voice  of  parental  despo- 
tism; we  behold  a  scene  of  filial  strife  and  insubordina- 
tion; there  is  throughout  a  heart-blank.  Domestic  life 
becomes  clouded  by  a  thousand  crosses  and  disappoint- 


62 


FAMILY  WORSHIP. 


ments:  the  solemn  realities  of  the  eternal  world  are 
cast  into  the  shade;  the  home-conscience  and  feeling 
become  stultified;  the  sense  of  moral  duty  distorted, 
and  all  the  true  interests  of  home  appear  in  a  haze. 
Natural  affection  is  debased,  and  love  is  prostituted  to 
the  base  designs  of  self,  and  the  entire  family,  with  all 
its  tender  chords,  ardent  hopes,  and  promised  interests, 
becomes  engulfed  in  the  vortex  of  criminal  worldliness ! 

It  is  included  in  the  necessities  of  our  children,  and 
in  the  covenant  promises  of  God.  The  penalties  of  its 
neglect,  and  the  rewards  of  our  faithfulness  to  it,  should 
prompt  us  to  '  its  establishment  in  our  homes.  Its 
absence  is  a  curse;  its  presence  a  blessing.  It  is  a 
foretaste  of  heaven.  Like  manna,  it  will  feed  our 
souls,  quench  our  thirst,  sweeten  the  cup  of  life,  and 
shed  a  halo  of  glory  and  of  gladness  around  our  fire- 
sides. Let  yours,  therefore,  be  the  religious  home; 
and  then  be  sure  that  God  will  delight  to  dwell  therein, 
and  His  blessing  will  descend,  like  the  dews  of  heaven, 
upon  it.  Your  children  shall  "not  be  found  begging 
bread,"  but  shall  be  like  "olive  plants  around  your 
table," — the  "heritage  of  the  Lord."  Yours  will  be 
the  home  of  love  and  harmony;  it  shall  have  the 
charter  of  family  rights  and  privileges,  the  ward  of 
family  interests,  the  palladium  of  family  hopes  and 
happiness.  Your  household  piety  will  be  the  crowning 
attribute  of  your  peaceful  home, — the  "crown  of  living 
stars  "  that  shall  adorn  the  night  of  its  tribulation,  and 
the  pillar  of  cloud  and  of  fire  in  its  pilgrimage  to  a 
"better  country."  It  shall  strew  the  family  threshold 
with  the  flowers  of  promise,  and  enshrine  the  memory 


HOME  INFLUENCE. 


63 


of  loved  ones  gone  before,  in  all  the  fragrance,  of  that 
" blessed  hope"  of  reunion  in  heaven  which  looms  up 
from  a  dying  hour.  It  shall  give  to  the  infant  soul  its 
"perfect  flowering,"  and  expand  it  in  all  the  fullness  of 
a  generous  love  and  conscious  blessedness,  making  it 
"lustrous  in  the  livery  of  divine  knowledge."  And 
then  in  the  dark  hour  of  home  separation  and  bereave- 
ment, when  the  question  is  put  to  you  mourning 
parents,  "Is  it  well  with  the  child?  is  it  well  with 
thee?"  you  can  answer  with  joy,  "It  is  well!" 


Our  nature  demands  home.  It  is  the  first  essential 
element  of  our  social  being.,  This  cannot  be  complete 
without  the  home  relations;  there  would  be  no  proper- 
equilibrium  of  life  and  character  without  the  home 
influence.  The  heart,  when  bereaved  and  disappointed, 
naturally  turns  for  refuge  to  home-life  and  sympathy. 
No  spot  is  so  attractive  to  the  weary  one;  it  is  the 
heart's  moral  oasis.  There  is  a  mother's  watchful  love 
and  a  father's  sustaining  influence;  there  is  a  husband's 
protection  and  a  wife's  tender  sympathy;  there  is  the 
circle  of  loving  brothers  and  sisters  —  happy  in  each 
other's  love.  Oh,  what  is  life  without  these!  A  desola- 
tion, a  painful,  gloomy  pilgrimage  through  "desert 
heaths  and  barren  sands." 

Home  influence  may  be  estimated  from  the  immense 
force  of  its  impressions.    It  is  the  prerogative  of  home 


64 


HOME  INFLUENCE. 


to  make  the  first  impression  upon  our  nature,  and  to 
give  that  nature  its  first  direction  onward  and  upward. 
It  uncovers  the  moral  fountain,  chooses  its  channel,  and 
gives  the  stream  its  first  impulse.  It  makes  the  "  first 
stamp  and  sets  the  first  seal"  upon  the  plastic  nature  of 
the  child.  It  gives  the  first  tone  to  our  desires  and 
furnishes  ingredients  that  will  either  sweeten  or  embitter 
the  whole  cup  of  life.  These  impressions  are  indelible 
and  durable  as  life.  Compared  with  them,  other  im- 
pressions are  like  those  made  upon  sand  or  wax.  These 
are  like  "the  deep  borings  into  the  flinty  rock."  To 
erase  them  we  must  remove  every  strata  of  our  being. 
Even  the  infidel  lives  under  the  holy  influence  of  a  pious 
mother's  impressions.  John  Randolph  could  never  shake 
off  the  restraining  influence  of  a  little  prayer  his  mother 
taught  him  when  a  child.  It  preserved  him  from  the 
clutches  of  avowed  infidelity. 

The  home  influence  is  either  a  blessing  or  a  curse, 
either  for  good  or  for  evil.  It  cannot  be  neutral.  In 
either  case  it  is  mighty,  commencing  with  our  birth, 
going  with  us  through  life,  clinging  to  us  in  death,  and 
reaching  into  the  eternal  world.  It  is  that  unitive 
power  which  arises  out  of  the  manifold  relations  and 
associations  of  domestic  life.  The  specific  influences  of 
husband  and  wife,  of  parent  and  child,  of  brother  and 
sister,  of  teacher  and  pupil,  united  and  harmoniously 
blended,  constitute  the  home  influence. 

From  this  we  may  infer  the  character  of  home  influ- 
ence. It  is  great,  silent,  irresistible  and  permanent. 
Like  the  calm,  deep  stream,  it  moves  on  in  silent,  but 
overwhelming  power.    It  strikes  its  roots  deep  into  the 


HOME  INFLUENCE. 


65 


human  heart,  and  spreads  its  branehes  wide  ©ver  our 
whole  being.  Like  the  lily  that  braves  the  tempest, 
and  "the  Alpine  flower  that  leans  its  cheek  on  the 
bosom  of  eternal  snows,"  it  is  exerted  amid  the  wildest 
storms  of  life  and  breathes  a  softening  spell  in  our 
bosom  even  when  a  heartless  world  is  freezing  up 
the  fountains  of  sympathy  and  love.  It  is  governing, 
restraining,  attracting  and  traditional.  It  holds  the 
empire  of  the  heart  and  rules  the  life.  It  restrains  the 
wayward  passions  of  the  child  and  checks  him  in  his 
mad  career  of  ruin. 

Our  habits,  too,  are  formed  under  the  moulding 
power  of  home.  The  "tender  twig"  is  there  bent,  the 
spirit  shaped,  principles  implanted,  and  the  whole  char- 
acter is  formed  until  it  becomes  a  habit.  Goodness  or 
evil  are  there  "  resolved  into  necessity."  Who  does 
not  feel  this  influence  of  home  upon  all  his  habits  of 
life?  The  gray-haired  father  who  wails  in  his  second 
infancy,  feels  the  traces  of  his  childhood  home  in  his 
spirit,  desires  and  habits.  Ask  the  strong  man  in  the 
prime  of  life  whether  the  most  firm  and  reliable  prin- 
ciples of  his  character  were  not  the  inheritance  of  the 
parental  home. 

The  most  illustrious  statesmen,  the  most  distinguished 
warriors,  the  most  eloquent  ministers,  and  the  greatest 
benefactors  of  human  kind,  owe  their  greatness  to  the 
fostering  influence  of  home.  Napoleon  knew  and  felt 
this  when  he  said,  "What  France  wants  is  good  moth- 
ers, and  you  may  be  sure  then  that  France  will  have 
good  sons."  The  homes  of  the  American  revolution 
made  the  men  of  the  revolution.  Their  influence  reaches 
5 


t>6 


ROME  INFLUENCE. 


yet  far  into  the  inmost  frame  and  constitution  of  our 
glorious  republic,  it  controls  the  fountains  of  her  power, 
forms  the  character  of  her  citizens  and  statesmen,  and 
shapes  our  destiny  as  a  people.  Did  not  the  Spartan 
mother  and  her  home  give  character  to  the  Spartan 
nation?  Her  lessons  to  her  child  infused  the  iron  nerve 
into  the  heart  of  that  nation,  and  caused  her  sons,  in 
the  wild  tumult  of  battle,  "either  to  live  behind  their 
shields,  or  to  die  upon  them!"  Her  influence  fired  them 
with  a  patriotism  which  was  stronger  than  death.  Had 
it  been  hallowed  by  the  pure  spirit  and  principles  of 
Christianity  what  a  power  of  good  it  would  have  been! 

But  alas!  the  home  of  an  Aspasia  had  not  the  heart 
and  ornaments  of  the  Christian  family.  Though  "the 
monuments  of  Cornelia's  virtues  were  the  character  of 
her  children,"  yet  these  were  not  "the  ornaments  of  a 
quiet  spirit."  Had  the  central  heart  of  the  Spartan 
home  been  that  of  the  Christian  mother,  the  Spartan 
nation  would  now  perhaps  adorn  the  brightest  page  of 
history. 

Home,  in  all  well  constituted  minds,  is  always  associ- 
ated with  moral  and  social  excellence.  The  higher 
men  rise  in  the  scale  of  being,  the  more  important  and 
interesting  is  home.  The  Arab  or  forest  man  may  care 
little  for  his  home,  but  the  Christian  man  of  cultured 
heart  and  developed  mind  will  love  his  home,  and  gen- 
erally love  it  in  proportion  to  his  moral  worth.  He 
knows  it  is  the  planting-ground  of  every  seed  of  moral- 
ity—  the  garden  of  virtue,  and  the  nursery  of  religion. 
He  knows  that  souls  immortal  are  here  trained  for  the 
•skies;  that  private  worth  and  public  character  are. made 


HOME  INFLUENCE?. 


GT 


iii  its  sacred  retreat.  To  love  home  with  a  deep  and 
.abiding  interest,  with  a  view  to  its  elevating  influence, 
is  to  love  truth  and  right,  heaven  and  God. 

Our  life  abroad  is  but  a  reflex  of  what  it  is  at  home. 
We  make  ourselves  in  a  great  measure  at  home.  This 
is  especially  true  of  woman.  The  woman  who  is  rude, 
coarse  and  vulgar  at  home,  cannot  be  expected  to  be 
amiable,  chaste  and  refined  in  the  world.  Her  home 
habits  will  stick  to  her.  She  cannot  shake  them  off. 
They  are  woven  into  the  web  of  her  life.  Her  home 
language  will  be  first  on  her  tongue.  Her  home  by- 
words will  come  out  to  mortify  her  just  when  she  wants 
most  to  hide  them  in  her  heart.  Her  home  vulgarities 
will  show  their  hideous  forms  to  shock  her  most  when 
she  wants  to  appear  her  best.  Her  home  coarseness 
will  appear  most  when  she  is  in  the  most  refined  circles, 
and  appearing  there  will  abash  her  more  than  else- 
where. All  her  home  habits  will  follow  her.  They 
have  become  a  sort  of  second  nature  to  her.  It  is 
much  the  same  with  men.  It  is  indeed  there  that  every 
man  must  be  known  by  those  who  would  make  a  just 
estimate  either  of  his  virtue  or  felicity;  for  smiles  and 
embroidery  are  alike  occasional,  and  the  mind  is  often 
dressed  for  show  in  painted  honor  and  fictitious  benevo- 
lence. Every  young  woman  should  feel  that  just  what 
she  is  at  home  she  will  appear  abroad.  If  she  attempts 
to  appear  otherwise,  everybody  will  soon  see  through 
the  attempt.  We  cannot  cheat  the  world  long  about 
our  real  characters.  The  thickest  and  most  opaque 
mask  we  can  put  on  will  soon  become  transparent. 
This  fact  we  should  believe  without  a  doubt.  Decep- 


68 


HOME  INFLUENCE. 


tion  most  often  deceives  itself.  The  deceiver  is  the 
most  deceived.  The  liar  is  often  the  only  one  cheated. 
The  young  woman  who  pretends  to  what  she  is  not, 
believes  her  pretense  is  not  understood.  Other  people 
laugh  in  their  sleeves  at  her  foolish  pretensions.  Every 
young  woman  should  early  form  in  her  mind  an  ideal 
of  a  true  home.  It  should  not  be  the  ideal  of  a  pi  ace  y 
but  of  the  character  of  home.  Place  does  not  consti- 
tute home.  Many  a  gilded  palace  and  sea  of  luxury  is 
not  a  home.  Many  a  flower-girt  dwelling  and  splendid 
mansion  lacks  all  the  essentials  of  home.  A  hovel  is 
often  more  a  home  than  a  palace.  If  the  spirit  of  the 
congenial  friendship  link  not  the  hearts  of  the  inmates 
of  a  dwelling  it  is  not  a  home.  If  love  reign  not  there; 
if  charity  spread  not  her  downy  mantle  over  all;  if 
peace  prevail  not;  if  contentment  be  not  a  meek  and 
merry  dweller  therein;  if  virtue  rear  not  her  beautiful 
children,  and  religion  come  not  in  her  white  robe  of 
gentleness  to  lay  her  hand  in  benediction  on  every  head, 
the  home  is  not  complete.  We  are  all  in  the  habit  of 
building  for  ourselves  ideal  homes.  But  they  are  gen- 
erally made  up  of  outward  things  —  a  house,  a  garden, 
a  carriage,  and  the  ornaments  and  appendages  of  lux- 
ury. And  if,  in  our  lives,  we  do  not  realize  our  ideas, 
we  make  ourselves  miserable  and  our  friends  miserable. 
Half  the  women  in  our  country  are  unhappy  because 
their  homes  are  not  so  luxurious  as  they  wish. 

The  grand  idea  of  home  is  a  quiet,  secluded  spot, 
where  loving  hearts  dwell,  set  apart  and  dedicated  to 
improvement — to  intellectual  and  moral  improvement. 
It  is  not  a  formal  school  of  staid  solemnity  and  rigid 


HOME  AMUSEMENTS. 


69 


discipline,  where  virtue  is  made  a  task  and  progress  a 
sharp  necessity,  but  a  free  and  easy  exercise  of  all  our 
spiritual  limbs,  in  which  obedience  is  a  pleasure,  disci- 
pline a  joy,  improvement  a  self-wrought  delight.  All 
the  duties  and  labors  of  home,  when  rightly  understood, 
are  so  many  means  of  improvement.  Even  the  trials 
-of  home  are  so  many  rounds  in  the  ladder  of  spiritual 
progress,  if  we  but  make  them  so.  It  is  not  merely  by 
speaking  to  children  about  spiritual  things  that  you  win 
them  over.  If  that  be  all  you  do,  it  will  accomplish 
nothing,  less  than  nothing.  It  is  the  sentiments  which 
they  hear  at  home,  it  is  the  maxims  which  rule  your 
daily  conduct — the  likings  and  dislikings  which  you 
express — the  whole  regulations  of  the  household,  in 
dress,  and  food,  and  furniture — the  recreations  you 
indulge — the  company  you  keep— the  style  of  your 
reading — the  whole  complexion  of  daily  life — this  cre- 
ates the  element  in  which  your  children  are  either 
growing  in  grace,  and  preparing  for  an  eternity  of 
glory — or  they  are  learning  to  live  without  God,  and 
to  die  without  hope. 

"  I  have  been  told  by  men,  who  had  passed  unharmed 
through  the  temptations  of  youth,  that  they  owed  their 
escape  from  many  dangers  to  the  intimate  companion- 
ship of  affectionate  and  pure-minded  sisters.  They 


HOME  AMUSEMENTS. 


have  been  saved  from  a  hazardous  meeting  with  idle 
company  by  some  home  engagement,  of  which  their 
sisters  were  the  charm;  they  have  refrained  from  mix- 
ing with  the  impure,  because  they  would  not  bring 
home  thoughts  and  feelings  which  they  could  not  share 
with  those  trusting  and  loving  friends;  they  have  put 
aside  the  wine-cup,  and  abstained  from  stronger  pota- 
tions, because  they  would  not  profane  with  their  fumes, 
the  holy  kiss,  with  which  they  were  accustomed  to  bid 
their  sisters  good-night." 

A  proper  amount  of  labor,  well-spiced  with  sunny 
sports,  is  almost  absolutely  necessary  to  the  formation 
of  a  firm,  hardy,  physical  constitution,  and  a  cheerful, 
and  happy  mind.  Let  all  youth  not  only  learn  to 
choose  and  enjoy  proper  amusements,  but  let  them 
learn  to  invent  them  at  home,  and  use  them  there,  and 
thus  form  ideas  of  such  homes  as  they  shall  wish  to 
have  their  own  children  enjoy.  Not  half  the  people 
know  how  to  make  a  home.  It  Is  one  of  the  greatest 
and  most  useful  studies  of  life  to  learn  how  to  make  a 
home — such  a  home  as  men,  and  women,  and  children 
should  dwell  in.  It  is  a  study  that  should  be  early 
introduced  to  the  attention  of  youth.  It  would  be  well 
if  books  were  written  upon  this  most  interesting  sub- 
ject, giving  many  practical  rules  and  hints,  with  a  long 
chapter  on  Amusements. 

That  was  a  good  remark  of  Seneca,  when  he  said, 
"  Great  is  he  who  enjoys  his  ear  then- ware  as  if  it  were 
plate,  and  not  less  great  is  the  man  to  whom  all  his 
plate  is  no  more  than  earthen-ware."  Every  home 
should  be  cheerful.    Innocent  joy  should  reign  in  every 


HUME  AMUSEMENTS. 


71 


heart.  There  should  be  domestic  amusements,  fireside 
pleasures,  quiet  and  simple  it  may  be,  but  such  as  shall 
make  home  happy,  and  not  leave  it  that  irksome  place 
which  will  oblige  the  youthful  spirit  to  look  elsewhere 
for  joy.  There  are  a  thousand  unobtrusive  ways  in 
which  we  may  add  to  the  cheerfulness  of  home.  The 
very  modulations  of  the  voice  will  often  make  a  won- 
derful difference.  How  many  shades  of  feeling  are 
expressed  by  the  voice !  what  a  change  comes  over  us 
at  the  change  of  its  tones!  No  delicately  tuned  harp- 
string  can  awaken  more  pleasure;  no  grating  discord 
can  pierce  with  more  pain. 

Let  parents  talk  much  and  talk  well  at  home.  A 
father  who  is  habitually  silent  in  his  own  house,  may 
be  in  many  respects  a  wise  man;  but  he  is  not  wise  in 
his  silence.  We  sometimes  see  parents,  who  are  the 
life  of  every  company  which  they  enter,  dull,  silent  and 
uninteresting  at  home  among  the  children.  If  they 
have  not  mental  activity  and  mental  stories  sufficient 
for  both,  let  them  first  provide  for  their  own  household. 
Ireland  exports  beef  and  wheat,  and  lives  on  pota- 
toes; and  they  fare  as  poorly  who  reserve  their  social 
charms  for  companions  abroad,  and  keep  their  dullness 
for  home  consumption.  It  is  better  to  instruct  children 
and  make  them  happy  at  home,  than  it  is  to  charm 
strangers  or  amuse  friends.  A  silent  house  is  a  dull 
place  for  young  people,  a  place  from  which  they  will 
escape  if  they  can.  They  will  talk  of  being  "shut  up'** 
there;  and  the  youth  who  does  not  love  home  is  in 
danger. 

The  true  mother  loves  to  see  her  son  come  home  to 


72 


HOME  AMUSEMENTS. 


her.  He  may  be  almost  as  big  as  her  house;  a  whis* 
keranclo,  with  as  much  hair  on  his  face  as  would  stuff 
her  arm  chair,  and  she  may  be  a  mere  shred  of  a 
woman;  but  he's  uher  boy;"  and  if  he  grew  twice 
as  big  he'd  be  "her boy"  still;  aye,  and  if  he  take  unto 
himself  a  wife,  he's  her  boy  still,  for  all  that.  She  does 
not  believe  a  word  of  the  old  rhyme  — 

"  Your  son  is  your  son  till  he  gets  him  a  wife ; 
But  your  daughter's  your  daughter  all  the  days  of  her  life." 

And  what  will  bring  our  boys  back  to  our  home- 
steads, but  our  making  those  homesteads  pleasant  to 
them  in  their  youth.  Let  us  train  a  few  roses  on  the 
humble  wall,  and  their  scent  and  beauty  will  be  long 
remembered;  and  many  a  lad,  instead  of  going  to  a 
spree,  will  turn  to  his  old  bed,  and  return  to  his  work 
again,  strengthened,  invigorated,  and  refreshed,  instead 
of  battered,  weakened,  and,  perhaps,  disgraced. 

Fathers,  mothers,  remember  this:  and  if  you  would 
not  have  your  children  lost  to  you  in  after-life  —  if  you 
would  have  your  married  daughters  not  forget  their 
old  home  in  the  new  one  —  if  you  would  have  your 
sons  lend  a  hand  to  keep  you  in  the  old  rose-covered 
cottage,  instead  of  letting  you  go  to  the  naked  walls 
of  a  workhouse — make  home  happy  to  them  when 
they  are  young.  Send  them  out  into  the  world  in  the 
full  belief  that  there  is  "no  place  like  home,"  aye,  "be 
it  ever  so  homely."  And  even  if  the  old  home  should, 
in  the  course  of  time,  be  pulled  down,  or  be  lost  to 
your  children,  it  will  still  live  in  their  memories.  The 
kind  looks,  and  kind  words,  and  thoughtful  love  of 


HOME  AMUSEMENTS. 


73 


those  who  once  inhabited  it,  will  not  pass  away.  Your 
home  will  be  like  the  poet's  vase  — 

"  You  may  break,  you  may  ruin,  the  vase  if  you  will, 
But  the  scent  of  the  roses  will  cling  to  it  still." 

Music  is  an  accomplishment  usually  valuable  as  a 
home  enjoyment,  as  rallying  round  the  piano  the 
various  members  of  a  family,  and  harmonizing  their 
hearts,  as  well  as  their  voices,  particularly  in  devo- 
tional strains.  We  know  no  more  agreeable  and  inter- 
esting spectacle  than  that  of  brothers  and  sisters  playing 
and  singing  together  those  elevated  compositions  in 
music  and  poetry  which  gratify  the  taste  and  purify  the 
heart,  while  their  parents  sit  delighted  by.  We  have  seen 
and  heard  an  elder  sister  thus  leading  the  family  choir, 
who  was  the  soul  of  harmony  to  the  whole  household, 
and  whose  life  was  a  perfect  example.  Parents  should 
not  fail  to  consider  the  great  value  of  home  music. 
Buy  a  good  instrument  and  teach  your  family  to  sing 
and  play,  then  they  can  produce  sufficient  amusement 
at  home  themselves  so  the  sons  will  not  think  of  look- 
ing elsewhere  for  it,  and  thus  often  be  led  into  dens  of 
vice  and  immorality.  The  reason  that  so  many  become 
dissipated  and  run  to  every  place  of  amusement,  no 
matter  what  its  character,  making  every  effort  possible 
to  get  away  from  home  at  night,  is  the  lack  of  enter- 
tainment at  home. 


74 


TO  YOUNG  MEN. 


Young  men!  you  are  wanted.  From  the  street 
corners,  from  the  saloons  and  playhouses,  from  the 
loafers '  rendezvous,  from  the  idlers '  promenade,  turn 
your  steps  into  the  highway  of  noble  aim  and  earnest 
work.  There  are  prizes  enough  for  every  successful 
worker,  crowns  enough  for  ever}7  honorable  head  that 
goes  through  the  smoke  of  conflict  to  victory. 

There  is  within  the  young  man  an  upspringing  of 
lofty  sentiment  which  contributes  to  his  elevation,  and 
though  there  are  obstacles  to  be  surmounted  and  diffi- 
culties to  be  vanquished,  yet  with  truth  for  his  watch- 
word, and  leaning  on  his  own  noble  purposes  and 
indefatigable  exertions,  he  may  crown  his  brow  with 
imperishable  honors.  He  may  never  wear  the  warrior's 
crimson  wreath,  the  poet's  chaplet  of  bays,  or  the 
statesman's  laurels;  .though  no  grand  universal  truth 
may  at  his  bidding  stand  confessed  to  the  world, — 
though  it  may  never  be  his  to  bring  to  a  successful 
issue  a  great  political  revolution — to  be  the  founder  of 
a  republic  whose  name  shall  be  a  "distinguished  star  in 
the  constellation  of  nations," — yea,  more,  though  his 
name  may  never  be  heard  beyond  the  narrow  limits  of 
his  own  neighborhood,  yet  is  his  mission  none  the  less  a 
high  and  holy  one. 

In  the  moral  and  physical  world,  not  only  the  field 
of  battle,  but  also  the  consecrated  cause  of  truth  and 
virtue  calls  for  champions,  and  the  field  for  doing  good 
is  "white  unto  the  harvest;"  and  if  he  enlists  in  the 
ranks,  and  his  spirit  faints  not,  he  may  write  his  name 


TO  YOUNG  MEN. 


75 


among  the  stars  of  heaven.  Beautiful  lives  have  blos- 
somed in  the  darkest  places,  as  pure  white  lilies  full  of 
fragrance  on  the  slimy,  stagnant  waters.  No  possession 
is  so  productive  of  real  influence  as  a  highly  cultivated 
intellect.  Wealth,  birth,  and  official  station  may  and 
do  secure  to  their  possessors  an  external,  superficial 
courtesy;  but  they  never  did,  and  they  never  can,  com- 
mand the  reverence  of  the  heart.  It  is  only  to  the  man 
of  large  and  noble  soul,  to  him  who  blends  a  cultivated 
mind  with  an  upright  heart,  that  men  yield  the  tribute 
of  deep  and  genuine  respect. 

But  why  do  so  few  young  men  of  early  promise, 
whose  hopes,  purposes,  and  resolves  were  as  radiant  as 
the  colors  of  the  rainbow,  fail  to  distinguish  them- 
selves? The  answer  is  obvious;  they  are  not  willing 
to  devote  themselves  to  that  toilsome  culture  which  is 
the  price  of  great  success.  Whatever  aptitude  for 
particular  pursuits  nature  may  donate  to  her  favorite 
children,  she  conducts  none  but  the  laborious  and  the 
studious  to  distinction. 

God  put  the  oak  in  the  forest,  and  the  pine  on  its 
sand  and  rocks,  and  says  to  men,  "  There  are  your 
houses;  go  hew,  saw,  frame,  build,  make.  God  makes 
the  trees;  men  must  build  the  house.  God  supplies  the 
timber;  men  must  construct  the  ship.  God  buries  iron 
in  the  heart  of  the  earth;  men  must  dig  it,  and  smelt  it, 
and  fashion  it.  What  is  useful  for  the  body,  and,  still 
more,  what  is  useful  for  the  mind,  is  to  be  had  only  by 
exertion  —  exertion  that  will  work  men  more  than  iron 
is  wrought — that  will  shape  men  more  than  timber  is 
shaped. 


76 


TO  YOUNG  MEN. 


Great  men  have  ever  been  men  of  thought  as  well  as 
men  of  action.  As  the  magnificent  river,  rolling  in  the 
pride  of  its  mighty  waters,  owes  its  greatness  to  the 
hidden  springs  of  the  mountain  nook,  so  does  the  wide- 
sweeping  influence  of  distinguished  men  date  its  origin 
from  hours  of  privacy,  resolutely  employed  in  efforts 
after  self-development.  The  invisible  spring  of  self- 
culture  is  the  source  of  every  great  achievement. 

Away,  then,  young  man,  with  all  dreams  of  superi- 
ority, unless  you  are  determined  to  dig  after  knowledge, 
as  men  search  for  concealed  gold!  Remember,  that 
every  man  has  in  himself  the  seminal  principle  of  great 
excellence,  and  he  may  develop  it  by  cultivation  if  he 
will  try.  Perhaps  you  are  what  the  world  calls  -poor. 
What  of  that?  Most  of  the  men  whose  names  are  as 
household  words  were  also  the  children  of  poverty. 
Captain  Cook,  the  circumnavigator  of  the  globe  was 
born  in  a  mud  hut,  and  started  in  life  as  a  cabin  boy. 
Lord  Eldon,  who  sat  on  the  woolsack  in  the  British 
parliament  for  nearly  half  a  century,  was  the  son  of  a 
coal  merchant.  Franklin,  the  philosopher,  diplomatist, 
and  statesman,  was  but  a  poor  printer's  boy,  whose 
highest  luxury  at  one  time,  was  only  a  penny  roll,  eaten 
in  the  streets  of  Philadelphia.  Ferguson,  the  profound 
philosopher,  was  the  son  of  a  half-starved  weaver. 
Johnson,  Goldsmith,  Coleridge,  and  multitudes  of  others 
of  high  distinction,  knew  the  pressure  of  limited  circum- 
stances, and  have  demonstrated  that  poverty  even  is  no 
insuperable  obstacle  to  success. 

Up,  then,  young  man,  and  gird  yourself  for  the  work 
of  self-cultivation!    Set  a  high  price  on  your  leisure 


TO  YOUNG  MEN. 


77 


moments.  They  are  sands  of  precious  gold.  Properly 
expended,  they  will  procure  for  }Tou  a  stock  of  great 
thoughts — thoughts  that  will  fill,  stir  and  invigorate, 
and  expand  the  soul.  Seize  also  on  the  unparalleled 
aids  furnished  by  steam  and  type  in  this  unequaled  age. 

The  great  thoughts  of  great  men  are  now  to  be  pro- 
cured at  prices  almost  nominal.  You  can,  therefore, 
easily  collect  a  library  of  choice  standard  works.  But 
above  all,  learn  to  reflect  even  more  than  you  read. 
Without  thought,  books  are  the  sepulchre  of  the  soul, — 
they  only  immure  it.  Let  thought  and  reading  go 
hand  in  hand,  and  the  intellect  will  rapidly  increase  in 
strength  and  gifts.  Its  possessor  will  rise  in  character, 
in  power,  and  in  positive  influence.  A  great  deal  of 
talent  is  lost  in  the  world  for  the  want  of  a  little 
courage.  Every  day  sends  to  the  grave  a  number  of 
obscure  men,  who  have  only  remained  in  obscurity 
because  their  timidity  has  prevented  them  from  making 
a  first  effort;  and  who,  if  they  could  have  been  induced 
to  begin,  would,  in  all  probability,  have  gone  great 
lengths  in  the  career  of  fame.  The  fact  is,  that  to  do 
anything  in  this  world  worth  doing,  we  must  not  stand 
back,  shivering,  and  thinking  of  the  cold  and  the 
danger,  but  jump  in  and  scramble  through  as  well  as 
we  can.  It  will  not  do  to  be  perpetually  calculating 
tasks,  and  adjusting  nice  chances;  it  did  very  well 
before  the  flood,  where  a  man  could  consult  his  friends 
upon  an  intended  publication  for  a  hundred  and  fifty 
years,  and  then  live  to  see  its  success  afterward;  but  at 
present  a  man  waits  and  doubts,  and  hesitates,  and  con- 
sults his  brother,  and  his  uncle,  and  particular  friends, 


78 


TO  YOUNG  MEN. 


till,  one  fine  day,  he  finds  that  he  is  sixty  years  of  age; 
that  he  has  lost  so  much  time  in  consulting  his  first 
cousin  and  particular  friends,  that  he  has  no  more  time 
to  follow  their  advice."" 

Man  is  born  to  dominion,  but  he  must  enter  it  by 
conquest,  and  continue  to  do  battle  for  every  inch  of 
ground  added  to  his  sway.  His  first  exertions  are  put 
forth  for  the  acquisition  of  the  control  and  the  establish- 
ment of  the  authority  of  his  own  will.  With  his  first 
efforts  to  reduce  his  own  physical  powers  to  subjection, 
he  must  simultaneously  begin  to  subject  his  mental  fac- 
ulties to  control.  Through  the  combined  exertion  of 
his  mental  and  physical  powers,  he  labors  to  spread  his 
dominion  over  the  widest  possible  extent  of  the  world 
without. 

Thus  self-control  and  control  over  outward  circum- 
stances are  alike  the  duty  and  the  birthright  of  man. 
But  s^lf-control  is  the  highest  and  noblest  form  of 
dominion.  "He  that  ruleth  his  own  spirit  is  greater 
than  he  that  taketh  a  city.'" 

If  you  intend  to  marry,  if  }^ou  think  your  happiness 
will  be  increased  and  your  interests  advanced  by  matri- 
mony, be  sure  and  "look  where  you  Ye  going."  Join 
yourself  in  union  with  no  woman  who  is  selfish,  for  she 
will  sacrifice  you;  with  no  one  who  is  fickle,  for  she 
will  become  estranged ;  have  naught  to  do  with  a  proud 
one,  for  she  will  ruin  you.  Leave  a  coquette  to  the  fools 
who  flutter  around  her;  let  her  own  fireside  accom- 
modate a  scold;  and  flee  from  a  woman  who  loves 
scandal,  as  you  would  flee  from  the  evil  one.  "Look 
where  you're  going"  will  sum  it  all  up. 


TO  YOUNG  MEN. 


79 


Gaze  not  on  beanty  too  much,  lest  it  blast  thee;  nor 
too  long,  lest  it  blind  thee;  nor  too  near,  lest  it  burn 
thee:  if  thou  like  it,  it  deceives  thee;  if  thou  love  it,  it 
disturbs  thee;  if  thou  lust  after  it,  it  destroys  thee;  if 
virtue  accompany  it,  it  is  the  hearth  paradise;  if  vice 
associate  it,  it  is  the  soul's  purgatory;  it  is  the  wise 
man's  bonfire,  and  the  fool's  furnace.  The  Godless 
youth  is  infatuated  by  a  fair  face,  and  is  lured  to  his 
fate  by  a  syren's  smile.  He  takes  no  counsel  of  the 
Lord  and  is  left  to  follow  his  own  shallow  fancies  or  the 
instigations  of  his  passions.  The  time  will  surely  come 
in  his  life  when  he  will  not  so  much  want  a  pet  as  a 
heroine.  In  dark  and  trying  days,  when  the  waves  of 
misfortune  are  breaking  over  him,  and  one  home  com- 
fort, and  another,  and  another  is  swept  away,  the  piano 
—  the  grand  instrument — gone  to  the  creditors,  the 
family  turned  out  on  the  sidewalk  by  the  heartless  land- 
lord, then  what  is  the  wife  good  for  if  her  lips  that 
accompanied  the  piano  in  song,  cannot  lift  alone  the 
notes,  " Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul,"  etc.  The  strongest 
arm  in  this  world  is  not  the  arm  of  a  blacksmith,  nor 
the  arm  of  a  giant;  it  is  the  arm  of  a  woman,  when 
God  has  put  into  it,  through  faith  and  submission  to 
His  will,  his  own  moral  omnipotence.  If  there  is  one 
beautiful  spot  on  earth,  it  is  the  home  of  the  young 
family  consecrated  by  piety,  the  abode  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  above  which  the  hovering  angels  touch  their 
wings,  forming  a  canopy  of  protection  and  sanctity. 

There  is  no  moral  object  so  beautiful  to  me  as  a  con- 
scientious young  man.  I  watch  him  as  I  do  a  star  in 
the  heavens;  clouds  may  be  before  him,  but  we  know 


80 


TO  YOUNG  MEN. 


that  his  light  is  behind  them  and  will  beam  again;  the 
blaze  of  others1  popularity  may  outshine  him,  but  we 
know  that,  though  unseen,  he  illuminates  his  own  true 
sphere.  He  resists  temptation,  not  without  a  struggle,, 
for  that  is  not  virtue,  but  he  does  resist  and  conquer; 
he  bears  the  sarcasm  of  the  profligate,  and  it  stings 
him,  for  that  is  a  trait  of  virtue,  but  heals  the  wound 
with  his  own  pure  touch.  He  heeds  not  the  watch- 
word of  fashion  if  it  leads  to  sin ;  the  Atheist,  who  says 
not  only  in  his  heart,  but  with  his  lips,  "There  is  no 
God!'1  controls  him  not;  he  sees  the  hand  of  a  creating 
God,  and  rejoices  in  it.  Woman  is  sheltered  by  fond 
arms  and  loving  counsel ;  old  age  is  protected  by  its 
experience,  and  manhood  by  its  strength;  but  the 
young  man  stands  amid  the  temptations  of  the  world 
like  a  self-balanced  tower.  Happy  he  who  seeks  and 
gains  the  prop  and  shelter  of  morality.  Onward,  then,, 
conscientious  youth — raise  thy  standard  and  nerve  thy- 
self for  goodness.  If  God  has  given  thee  intellectual 
power,  awaken  in  that  cause;  never  let  it  be  said  of 
thee,  he  helped  to  swell  the  tide  of  sin  by  pouring  his 
influence  into  its  channels.  If  thou  art  feeble  in  mental 
strength,  throw  not  that  drop  into  a  polluted  current. 
Awake,  arise,  young  man!  assume  that  beautiful  garb 
of  virtue!  It  is  difficult  to  be  pure  and  holy.  Put  on 
thy  strength,  then.  Let  truth  be  the  lady  of  thy  love  — 
defend  her. 

A  young  man  came  to  an  aged  professor  of  a  dis- 
tinguished continental  university,  with  a  smiling  faceT 
and  informed  him  that  the  long  and  fondly  cherished 
desire  of  his  heart  was  at  length  fulfilled  —  his  parents 


TO  YOUNG  MEN 


81 


had  given  their  eonsent  to  his  studying  the  profession 
of  the  law.  For  some  time  he  continued  explaining 
how  he  would  spare  no  labor  nor  expense  in  perfecting 
his  education.  When  he  paused,  the  old  man,  who  had 
been  listening  to  him  with  great  patience  and  kindness, 
gently  said,  "Well!  and  when  you  have  finished  your 
studies,  what  do  you  mean  to  do  then?"  "Then  I  shall 
take  my  degree,"  answered  the  young  man.  "And 
then?"  asked  the  venerable  friend.  "And  then,"  con- 
tinued the  youth,  "I  shall  have  a  number  of  difficult 
cases,  and  shall  attract  notice,  and  win  a  great  reputa- 
tion." "And  then?"  repeated  the  holy  man.  "Why, 
then,"  replied  the  youth,  "I  shall  doubtless  be  promoted 
to  some  high  office  in  the  State."  "And  then?"  "And 
then,"  pursued  the  young  lawyer,  "I  shall  live  in  honor 
and  wealth,  and  look  forward  to  a  happy  old  age." 
"And  then?"  repeated  the  old  man.  "And  then,"  said 
the  youth,  "and  then — and  then — and  then  I  shall 
die."  Here  the  venerable  listener  lifted  up  his  voice, 
and  again  asked,  with  solemnity  and  emphasis,  "And 
then?"  Whereupon  the  aspiring  student  made  no 
answer,  but  cast  down  his  head,  and  in  silerice  and 
thoughtfulness  retired.  The  last  "And  then?"  had 
pierced  his  heart  like  a  sword,  had  made  an  impression 
which  he  could  not  dislodge. 


82 


TO  YOUNG  WOMEN. 


What  is  womanhood  ?  Is  there  any  more  important 
question  for  young  women  to  consider  than  this?  It 
should  be  the  highest  ambition  of  ever}7  young  woman 
to  possess  a  true  womanhood.  Earth  presents  no  higher 
object  of  attainment.  To  be  a  woman,  in  the  truest 
and  highest  sense  of  the  word,  is  to  be  the  best  thing 
beneath  the  skies.  To  be  a  woman  is  something  more 
than  to  live  eighteen  or  twenty  years;  something  more 
than  to  grow  to  the  physical  stature  of  women;  some- 
thing more  than  to  wear  flounces,  exhibit  dry-goods7 
sport  jewelry,  catch  the  gaze  of  lewd-eyed  men ;  some- 
thing more  than  to  be  a  belle,  a  wife,  or  a  mother.  Put 
all  these  qualifications  together  and  they  do  but  little 
toward  making  a  true  woman. 

Beauty  and  style  are  not  the  surest  passports  to 
womanhood  —  some  of  the  noblest  specimens  of  woman 
hood  that  the  world  has  ever  seen,  have  presented  the 
plainest  and  most  unprepossessing  appearance.  A 
woman's  worth  is  to  be  estimated  by  the  real  goodness 
of  her  heart,  the  greatness  of  her  soul,  and  the  purity 
and  sweetness  of  her  character;  and  a  woman  with  a 
kindly  disposition  and  well-balanced  temper,  is  both 
lovely  and  attractive,  be  her  face  ever  so  plain  and  her 
figure  ever  so  homely;  she  makes  the  best  of  wives  and 
the  truest  of  mothers.  She  has  a  higher  purpose  in 
living  than  the  beautiful,  }'et  vain  and  supercilious 
woman,  who  has  no  higher  ambition  than  to  flaunt  her 
finery  on  the  street,  or  to  gratify  her  inordinate  vanity 


TO  YOUNG  WOMEN. 


83 


by  extracting  flattery  and  praise  from  society,  whose 
compliments  are  as  hollow  as  they  are  insincere. 

Beauty  is  a  dangerous  gift.  It  is  even  so.  Like  wealth 
it  has  ruined  its  thousands.  Thousands  of  the  most 
beautiful  women  are  destitute  of  common  sense  and 
•common  humanity.  No  gift  from  heaven  is  so  general 
•and  so  widely  abused  by  woman  as  the  gift  of  beauty. 
In  about  nine  cases  in  ten  it  makes  her  silly,  senseless, 
thoughtless,  giddy,  vain,  proud,  frivolous,  selfish,  low 
and  mean.  I  think  I  have  seen  more  girls  spoiled  by 
beauty  than  by  any  other  one  thing.  "  She  is  beautiful, 
and  she  knows  it,"  is  as  much  as  to  say  she  is  spoiled. 
A  beautiful  girl  is  very  likely  to  believe  she  was  made 
•to  be  looked  at;  and  so  she  sets  herself  up  for  a  show 
.at  every  window,  in  every  door,  on  every  corner  of  the 
street,  in  every  company  at  which  opportunity  offers  for 
an  exhibition  of  herself.  And  believing  and  acting 
thus,  she  soon  becomes  good  for  nothing  else,  and  when 
she  comes  to  be  a  middle-aged  woman  she  is  that 
weakest,  most  sickening  of  all  human  things — a  faded 
beauty. 

These  facts  have  long  since  taught  sensible  men  to 
beware  of  beautiful  women — to  sound  them  carefully 
before  they  give  them  their  confidence.  Beauty  is  shal- 
low— only  skin-deep;  fleeting — only  for  a  few  years' 
reign;  dangerous — tempting  to  vanity  and  lightness  of 
mind;  deceitful — dazzling  often  to  bewilder;  weak  — 
reigning  only  to  ruin;  gross — leading  often  to  sensual 
pleasure.  And  yet  we  say  it  need  not  be  so.  Beauty 
is  lovely  and  ought  to  be  innocently  possessed.  It  has 
charms  which  ought  to  be  used  for  good  purposes.  It 


84 


TO  YOUNG  WOMEN. 


is  a  delightful  gift,  which  ought  to  be  received  with 
gratitude  and  worn  with  grace  and  meekness.  It  should 
always  minister  to  inward  beauty.  Every  woman  of 
beautiful  form  and  features  should  cultivate  a  beautiful 
mind  and  heart. 

Young  women  ought  to  hold  a  steady  moral  sway 
over  their  male  associates,  so  strong  as  to  prevent  them 
from  becoming  such  lawless  rowdies.  Why  do  they 
not?  Because  they  do  not  possess  sufficient  force  of 
character.  They  have  not  sufficient  resolution  and 
energy  of  purpose.  Their  virtue  is  not  vigorous.  Their 
moral  wills  are  not  resolute.  Their  influence  is  not 
armed  with  executive  power.  Their  goodness  is  not 
felt  as  an  earnest  force  of  benevolent  purpose.  Their 
moral  convictions  are  not  regarded  as  solemn  resolves 
to  be  true  to  God  and  duty,  come  what  may.  This  is 
the  virtue  of  too  many  women.  They  would  not  have 
a  drunkard  for  a  husband,  but  they  would  drink  a  glass 
of  wine  with  a  fast  young  man.  They  would  not  use 
profane  language,  but  they  are  not  shocked  by  its  inci- 
pient language,  and  love  the  society  of  men  whom  they 
know  are  as  profane  as  Lucifer  out  of  their  presence. 
They  would  not  be  dishonest,  but  they  will  use  a  thou- 
sand deceitful  words  and  ways,  and  countenance  the 
society  of  men  known  as  hawkers,  sharpers  and  deceiv- 
ers. They  would  not  be  irreligious,  but  they  smile 
upon  the  most  irreligious  men,  and  even  show  that  they 
love  to  be  wooed  by  them.  They  would  not  be  licen- 
tious, but  they  have  no  stunning  rebuke  for  licentious 
men,  and  will  even  admit  them  on  parol  into  their 
society.    This  is  the  virtue  of  too  many  women — a 


TO  YOUNG  WOMEN. 


85 


virtue  scarcely  worthy  the  name — really  no  virtue  at 
all — a  milk-and-water  substitute  —  a  hypocritical,  hol- 
low pretension  to  virtue  as  unwomanly  as  it  is  disgrace- 
ful. We  believe  that  a  young  lady,  by  her  constant, 
consistent  Christian  example,  may  exert  an  untold 
power.  You  do  not  know  the  respect  and  almost  wor- 
ship which  young  men,  no  matter  how  wicked  they 
may  be  themselves,  pay  to  a  consistent  Christian  lady, 
be  she  young  or  old.  If  a  young  man  sees  that  the 
religion  which,  in  youth,  he  was  taught  to  venerate,  is 
lightly  thought  of,  and  perhaps  sneered  at,  by  the  young 
ladies  with  whom  he  associates,  we  can  hardly  expect 
him  to  think  that  it  is  the  thing  for  him.  Let  none  say 
that  they  have  no  influence  at  all.  This  is  not  possible. 
You  cannot  live  without  having  some  sort  of  influence, 
any  more  than  you  can  without  breathing.  One  thing 
is  just  as  unavoidable  as  the  other.  Beware,  then,  what 
land  of  influence  it  is  that  you  are  constantly  exertii  g. 
An  invitation  to  take  a  glass  of  wine,  or  to  play  a  gam  * 
of  cards,  may  kindle  the  fires  of  intemperance  or  gam- 
bling, which  will  burn  forever.  A  jest  given  at  the 
expense  of  religion,  a  light,  trifling  manner  in  the  house 
of  God,  or  any  of  the  numerous  ways  in  which  you 
may  show  your  disregard  for  the  souls  of  others,  may 
be  the  means  of  ruining  many  for  time  and  eternity. 

We  want  the  girls  to  rival  the  boys  in  all  that  is 
good,  and  refined,  and  ennobling.  We  want  them 
to  rival  the  boys,  as  they  well  can,  in  learning,  in 
understanding,  in  virtues;  in  all  noble  qualities  of  mind 
and  heart,  but  not  in  any  of  those  things  that  have 
caused  them  justly  or  unjustly,  to  be  described  as  sav- 


86 


TO  YOUNG  WOMEN. 


ages.  We  want  the  girls  to  be  gentle — not  weak,  but 
gentle,  and  kind,  and  affectionate.  We  want  to  be  sure,, 
that  wherever  a  girl  is,  there  should  be  a  sweet,  subdu- 
ing and  harmonizing  influence  of  purity,  and  truth, 
and  love,  pervading  and  hallowing,  from  center  to  cir- 
cumference, the  entire  circle  in  which  she  moves.  If 
the  boys  are  savages,  we  want  her  to  be  their  civilizer.. 
We  want  her  to  tame  them,  to  subdue  their  ferocity,  to> 
soften  their  manners,  and  to  teach  them  all  needful  les- 
sons of  order,  and  sobriety,  and  meekness,  and  patience.,, 
and  goodness. 

The  little  world  of  self  is  not  the  limit  that  is  to  con- 
fine all  her  actions.  Her  love  was  not  destined  to  waste 
its  fires  in  the  narrow  chamber  of  a  single  human  heart ; 
no,  a  broader  sphere  of  action  is  hers — a  more  expan- 
sive benevolence.  The  light  and  heat  of  her  love  are 
to  he  seen  and  felt  far  and  wide.  Who  would  not  rather 
tb  as  live  a  true  life,  than  sit  shivering  over  the  smoul- 
c  ering  embers  of  self-love  ?  Happy  is  that  maiden  who- 
seeks  to  live  this  true  life !  As  time  passes  on,  her  own 
character  will  be  elevated  and  purified.  Gradually  will 
she  return  toward  that  order  of  her  being,  which  was 
lost  in  the  declension  of  mankind  from  that  original 
state  of  excellence  in  which  they  were  created.  She 
will  become,  more  and  more,  a  true  woman;  will  grow 
wiser,  and  better,  and  happier.  Her  path  through  the 
world  will  be  as  a  shining  light,  and  all  who  know  her 
will  call  her  blessed. 

A  right  view  of  life,  then,  which  all  should  take  at 
the  outset,  is  the  one  we  have  presented.  Let  every" 
young  lady  seriously  reflect  upon  this  subject.    Let  her 


TO  YOUNG  WOMEN. 


87 


remember  that  she  is  not  designed  by  her  Creator  to 
live  for  herself  alone,  but  has  a  higher  and  nobler  des- 
tiny—  that  of  doing  good  to  others  —  of  making  others 
happy.  As  the  quiet  streamlet  that  runs  along  the 
valley  nourishes  a  luxuriant  vegetation,  causing  flow- 
ers to  bloom  and  birds  to  sing  along  its  banks,  so  do 
a  kind  look  and  happy  countenance  spread  peace  and 
joy  around. 

Kindness  is  the  ornament  of  man  —  it  is  the  chief 
glory  of  woman — it  is,  indeed,  woman's  true  prerog- 
ative— her  sceptre  and  her  crown.  It  is  the  sword 
with  which  she  conquers,  and  the  charm  with  which 
she  captivates. 

Young  lady,  would  you  be  admired  and  beloved? 
would  you  be  an  ornament  to  your  sex,  and  a  blessing 
to  your  race?  Cultivate  this  heavenly  virtue.  Wealth 
may  surround  you  with  its  blandishments,  and  beauty  ? 
learning,  or  talents,  may  give  you  admirers,  but  love 
and  kindness  alone  can  captivate  the  heart.  Whether 
you  live  in  a  cottage  or  a  palace,  these  graces  can  sur- 
round you  with  perpetual  sunshine,  making  you,  and  all 
around  you,  happy. 

Seek  ye,  then,  fair  daughters !  the  possession  of  that 
inward  grace,  whose  essence  shall  permeate  and  vital- 
ize the  affections,  —  adorn  the  countenance, — make 
mellifluous  the  voice, — and  impart  a  hallowed  beauty 
even  to  your  motions.  Not  merely  that  you  may  be 
loved,  would  I  urge  this,  but  that  you  may,  in  truth,  be 
lovely, — that  loveliness  which  fades  not  with  time,  nor 
is  marred  or  alienated  by  disease,  but  which  neither 
chance  nor  change  can  in  any  way  despoil.    We  urge 


88 


DAUGHTER  AND  SISTER. 


you,  gentle  maiden,  to  beware  of  the  silken  entice- 
ments of  the  stranger,  until  your  love  is  confirmed  by 
protracted  acquaintance.  Shun  the  idler,  though  his 
coffers  overflow  with  pelf.  Avoid  the  irreverent, — - 
the  scoffer  of  hallowed  things;  and  him  uwho  looks 
upon  the  wine  while  it  is  red;" — him,  too,  "who  hath 
a  high  look  and  a  proud  heart,"  and  who  "privily  slan- 
dereth  his  neighbor."  Do  not  heed  the  specious  prattle 
about  "first  love,"  and  so  place,  irrevocably,  the  seal 
upon  your  future  destiny,  before  you  have  sounded,  in 
silence  and  secresy,  the  deep  fountains  of  your  own 
heart.  Wait,  rather,  until  your  own  character  and 
that  of  him  who  would  woo  you,  is  more  fully  devel- 
oped. Surely,  if  this  "first  love"  cannot  endure  a 
short  probation,  fortified  by  "the  pleasures  of  hope," 
how  can  it  be  expected  to  survive  }^ears  of  intimacy, 
scenes  of  trial,  distracting  cares,  wasting  sickness,  and 
all  the  homely  routine  of  practical  life.  Yet  it  is  these 
that  constitute  life,  and  the  love  that  cannot  abide  them 
is  false  and  must  die. 


There  are  few  things  of  which  men  are  more  proud 
than  of  their  daughters.  The  young  father  follows  the 
sportive  girl  with  his  eye,  as  he  cherishes  an  emotion 
of  complacency,  not  so  tender,  but  quite  as  active  as  the 
mother's.    The  aged  father  leans  on  his  daughter  as  the 


DAUGHTER  AND  SISTER. 


89 


crutch  of  his  declining  years.  An  old  proverb  says 
that  the  son  is  son  till  he  is  married,  but  the  daughter 
is  daughter  forever.  This  is  something  like  the  truth. 
Though  the  daughter  leaves  the  parental  roof,  she  is 
still  followed  by  kindly  regards.  The  gray-haired  father 
drops  in  every  day  to  greet  the  beloved  face ;  and  when 
he  pats  the  cheeks  of  the  little  grandchildren,  it  is 
chiefly  because  the  bond  which  unites  him  to  them 
passes  through  the  heart  of  his  darling  Mary;  she  is 
his  daughter  still.  There  are  other  ministries  of  love 
more  conspicuous  than  hers,  but  none  in  which  a  gentler, 
lovelier  spirit  dwells,  and  none  to  which  the  heart's 
warm  requitals  more  joyfully  respond.  There  is  no 
such  thing  as  comparative  estimate  of  a  parent's  affec- 
tion for  one  or  another  child.  There  is  little  which  he 
needs  to  covet,  to  whom  the  treasure  of  a  good  child 
has  been  given.  A  good  daughter  is  the  steady  light 
of  her  parent's  house.  Her  idea  is  indissolubly  con- 
nected with  that  of  his  happy  fireside.  She  is  his 
morning  sunlight,  and  his  evening  star. 

The  grace,  and  vivacity,  and  tenderness  of  her  sex, 
have  their  place  in  the  mighty  sway  which  she  holds 
over  his  spirit.  The  lessons  of  recorded  wisdom  which 
he  reads  with  her  eyes,  come  to  his  mind  with  a  new 
charm,  as  they  blend  with  the  beloved  melody  of  her 
voice.  He  scarcely  knows  weariness  which  her  song 
does  not  make  him  forget,  or  gloom  which  is  proof 
against  the  young  brightness  of  her  smile.  She  is  the 
pride  and  ornament  of  his  hospitality,  and  the  gentle 
nurse  of  his  sickness,  and  the  constant  agent  in  those 
nameless,  numberless  acts  of  kindness  which  one  chiefly 


90  DAUGHTER  AND  SISTER 

cares  to  have  rendered  because  they  are  unpretending, 
but  all  expressive  proofs  of  love. 

But  now,  turning  to  the  daughters  themselves,  one 
of  their  first  duties  at  home  is  to  make  their  mother 
happy — to  shun  all  that  would  pain  or  even  perplex 
her.  "Always  seeking  the  pleasure  of  others,  alwa}7s 
careless  of  her  own,"  is  one  of  the  finest  encomniums 
ever  pronounced  upon  a  daughter.  True :  at  that 
period  of  life  when  dreams  are  realities ,  and  realities 
seem  dreams,  this  may  be  forgotten.  Mothers  may 
find  only  labor  and  sorrow  where  they  had  a  right  to 
expect  repose;  but  the  daughter  who  would  make  her 
home  and  her  mother  happy,  should  learn  betimes  that, 
next  to  duty  to  God  our  Savior,  comes  duty  to  her  who 
is  always  the  first  to  rejoice  in  our  joy,  and  to  weep 
when  we  weep.  Of  all  the  proofs  of  heartlessness 
which  youth  can  give,  the  strongest  is  indifference  to  a 
mother's  happiness  or  sorrow. 

How  large  and  cherished  a  place  does  a  good  sister's 
love  always  hold  in  the  grateful  memory  of  one  who 
has  been  blessed  with  the  benefits  of  this  relation  as  he 
looks  back  to  the  home  of  his  childhood!  How  many 
are  there  who,  in  the  changes  of  maturer  years,  have 
found  a  sister's  love,  for  themselves,  and  others  dearer 
than  themselves,  their  ready  and  adequate  resource. 
With  what  a  sense  of  security  is  confidence  reposed  in 
a  good  sister,  and  with  what  assurance  that  it  will  b^ 
uprightly  and  considerately  given,  is  her  counsel  sought! 
How  intimate  is  the  friendship  of  such  sisters,  not 
widely  separated  in  age  from  one  another!  What  a 
reliance  for  warning,  excitement,  and  sympathy  has 


DAUGHTER  AND  SISTER. 


91 


each  secured  in  each!  How  many  are  the  brothers  to 
whom,  when  thrown  into  circumstances  of  temptation, 
the  thought  of  a  sister's  love  has  been  a  constant,  holy 
presence,  rebuking  every  wayward  thought! 

The  intercourse  of  brothers  and  sisters  forms  another 
important  element  in  the  happy  influences  of  home.  A 
boisterous  or  a  selfish  boy  may  try  to  domineer  over  the 
weaker  or  more  dependent  girl,  but  generally  the  latter 
exerts  a  softening,  sweetening  charm.  The  brother 
animates  and  heartens,  the  sister  mollifies,  tames,  refines. 
The  vine-tree  and  its  sustaining  elm  are  the  emblems 
of  such  a  relation — and  by  such  agencies  our  "sons 
may  become  like  plants  grown  up  in  their  youth,  and 
our  daughters  like  corner-stones  polished  after  the  simili- 
tude of  a  temple.' 1  Among  Lord  Byron's  early  miseries^ 
the  terms  on  which  he  lived  with  his  mother  helped  to 
sour  the  majestic  moral  ruin — he  was  chafed  and  dis- 
tempered thereby.  The  outbreaks  of  her  passion,  and 
the  unbridled  impetuosity  of  his,  made  their  companion- 
ship uncongenial,  and  at  length  drove  them  far  apart. 
But  Byron  found  a  compensating  power  in  the  friendship 
of  his  sister,  and  to  her  he  often  turned  amid  his  wan- 
derings, or  his  misanthropy  and  guilt,  as  an  exile  turns 
to  his  home.  aA  world  to  roam  in  and  a  home  with 
thee,"  were  words  which  embodied  the  feelings  of  his 
void  and  aching  heart,  when  all  else  that  is  lovely 
appeared  to  have  faded  away.  He  had  plunged  into 
the  pleasures  of  sin  till  he  was  sated,  wretched,  and  self- 
consumed — the  very  Sardanapalus  of  vice.  But  "his 
sister,  his  sweet  sister,"  still  shone  like  the  morning  star 
of  memory  upon  his  dark  soul. 


DAUGHTER  AND  SISTER. 


Sisters  scarcely  know  the  influence  they  have  over 
their  brothers.  A  young  man  testifies  that  the  greatest 
proof  oi  the  truth  of  Christian  religion  was  his  sister's 
life.  Often  the  simple  request  of  a  lady  will  keep  a 
young  man  from  doing  wrong.  We  have  known  this 
to  be  the  case  very  frequently;  and  young  men  have 
been  kept  from  breaking  the  Sabbath,  from  drinking, 
from  chewing,  just  because  a  lady  whom  they  respected, 
and  for  whom  they  had  an  affection,  requested  it.  A 
tract  given,  an  invitation  to  go  to  church,  a  request  that 
your  friend  would  read  the  Bible  daily,  will  often  be 
regarded,  when  a  more  powerful  appeal  from  other 
sources  would  fall  unheeded  upon  his  heart.  Many  of 
the  gentlemen  whom  you  meet  in  society  are  away 
from  the  influence  of  parents  and  sisters ,  and  they  will 
-respond  to  any  interest  taken  in  their  welfare.  We  all 
speak  of  a  young  man's  danger  from  evil  associates,  and 
the  very  bad  influence  which  his  dissipated  gentlemen 
associates  have  upon  him.  We  believe  it  is  all  true 
that  a  gentleman's  character  is  formed  to  a  greater 
extent  by  the  ladies  that  he  associates  with  before  he 
becomes  a  complete  man  of  the  world.  We  think,  in 
other  words,  that  a  young  man  is  pretty  much  what  his 
sisters  and  young  lady  friends  choose  to  make  him. 
We  knew  a  family  where  the  sisters  encouraged  their 
young  brothers  to  smoke,  thinking  it  was  manly,  and  to 
mingle  with  gay,  dissipated  fellows  because  they  thought 
it  "smart;"  and  they  did  mingle  with  them,  body  and 
soul,  and  abused  the  same  sisters  shamefully.  The 
'nfluence  began  further  back  than  with  their  gentlemen 
•companions.    It  began  with  their  sisters,  and  was  car- 


ASSOCIATES. 


9a. 


ried  on  through  the  forming  years  of  their  character. 
On  the  other  hand,  if  sisters  are  watchful  and  affection- 
ate they  may  in  various  ways — by  entering  into  any 
little  plan  with  interest,  by  introducing  their  younger 
brothers  into  good  ladies'  society — lead  them  along  till 
their  character  is  formed,  and  then  a  high  respect  for 
ladies,  and  a  manly  self-respect,  will  keep  them  from 
mingling  in  low  society. 

Thou  art  noble ;  yet,  I  see, 
Thy  honorable  Metal  may  be  wrought 
From  that  it  is  disposed.    Therefore  'tis  meet 
That  noble  Minds  keep  ever  with  their  Likes  : 
For  who  so  firm,  that  cannot  be  seduced  ? 

— Shakspeare. 

An  author  is  known  by  his  writings,  a  mother  by 
her  daughter,  a  fool  by  his  words,  and  all  men  by  their 
companions. 

Intercourse  with  persons  of  decided  virtue  and  excel- 
lence is  of  great  importance  in  the  formation  of  a  good 
character.  The  force  of  example  is  powerful;  we  are 
creatures  of  imitation,  and,  by  a  necessary  influence, 
our  tempers  and  habits  are  very  much  formed  on  the 
model  of  those  with  whom  we  familiarly  associate. 
Better  be  alone  than  in  bad  company.  Evil  commu- 
nications corrupt  good  manners.  Ill  qualities  are 
catching  as  well  as  diseases;  and  the  mind  is  at  least 


94 


ASSOCIATES. 


as  much,  if  not  a  great  deal  more,  liable  to  infection, 
than  the  body.  Go  with  mean  people,  and  you  think 
life  is  mean. 

The  human  race  requires  to  be  educated,  and  it  is 
doubtless  true  that  the  greater  part  of  that  education  is 
obtained  through  example  rather  than  precept.  This 
is  especially  true  respecting  character  and  habits.  How- 
natural  is  it  for  a  child  to  look  up  to  those  around  him 
for  an  example  of  imitation,  and  how  readily  does  he 
copy  all  that  he  sees  done,  good  or  bad.  The  import- 
ance of  a  good  example  on  which  the  young  may  exer- 
cise this  powerful  and  active  element  of  their  nature,  is 
a  matter  of  the  utmost  moment.  To  the  Phrenologist 
every  faculty  assumes  an  importance  almost  infinite, 
and  perhaps  none  more  so  than  that  of  imitation.  It  is 
a  trite,  but  true  maxim,  that  "  a  man  is  known  by  the 
company  he  keeps."  He  naturally  assimilates,  by  the 
force  of  imitation,  to  the  habits  and  manners  of  those 
by  whom  he  is  surrounded.  We  know  persons,  who 
walk  much  with  the  lame,  who  have  learned  to  walk 
with  a  hitch  or  limp  like  their  lame  friends.  Vice 
stalks  in  the  streets  unabashed,  and  children  copy  it. 
Witness  the  urchin  seven  years  old  trying  to  ape  his 
seniors  in  folly,  by  smoking  the  cigar-stumps  which 
they  have  cast  aside.  In  time,  when  his  funds  improve, 
he  will  wield  the  long  nine,  and  be  a  full-fledged 
u loafer."  This  faculty  is  usually  more  active  in  the 
young  than  in  adult  life,  and  serves  to  lead  them  to 
imitate  that  which  their  seniors  do,  before  their  reason- 
ing powers  are  sufficiently  developed  and  instructed  to 
enable  them  to  reason  out  a  proper  course  of  action. 


ASSOCIATES. 


95 


Thus  by  copying  others,  they  do  that  which  is  appro- 
priate, right,  or  wrong,  without  knowing  why,  or  the 
principles  and  consequences  involved  in  their  actions. 

The  awfully  sad  consequences  of  evil  associations  is 
exhibited  in  the  history  of  almost  all  criminals.  The 
case  of  a  man  named  Brown,  recently  executed  in 
Toronto,  Canada,  is  an  example.  He  was  born  in 
Cambridgeshire,  England,  of  parents  who  were  mem- 
bers of  the  Church  of  England;  and  in  a  sketch  of  his 
life,  written  at  his  dictation,  he  attributes  his  downfall 
to  early  disobedience  and  to  bad  companions,  which  led 
to  dissipation  and  finally  plunged  him  into  associations 
with  the  most  dissolute  and  lawless  characters.  They 
led  him  on  in  transgression  and  sin,  which  ended  in  his 
being  brought  to  the  scaffold.  On  the  gallows  he  made 
the  following  speech:  aThis  is  a  solemn  day  for  me, 
boys!  I  hope  this  will  be  a  warning  to  you  against  bad 
company — I  hope  it  will  be  a  lesson  to  all  young  people, 
and  old  as  well  as  young,  rich  and  poor.  It  was  that 
that  brought  me  here  to-day  to  my  last  end,  though 
I  am  innocent  of  the  murder  I  am  about  to  suffer  for. 
Before  my  God  I  am  innocent  of  the  murder!  I  never 
committed  this  or  any  other  murder.  I  know  nothing 
of  it.  I  am  going  to  meet  my  Maker  in  a  few  minutes. 
May  the  Lord  have  mercy  on  my  soul!  Amen,  amen." 
What  a  terrible  warning  his  melancholy  example  affords 
to  young  men  never  to  deviate  from  the  straight  line  of 
duty.  Live  with  the  culpable,  and  you  will  be  very 
likely  to  die  with  the  criminal.  Bad  company  is  like  a 
nail  driven  into  a  post,  which  after  the  first  or  second 
blow,  may  be  drawn  out  with  little  difficulty ;  but  being 


96 


ASSOCIATES. 


once  driven  in  up  to  the  head,  the  pinchers  cannot  take 
hold  to  draw  it  out,  which  can  only  be  done  by  the 
destruction  of  the  wood.  You  may  be  ever  so  pure, 
you  cannot  associate  with  bad  companions  without 
falling  into  bad  odor.  Evil  company  is  like  tobacco 
smoke — you  cannot  be  long  in  its  presence  without 
carrying  away  taint  of  it.  "Let  no  man  deceive  him- 
self," says  Petrarch,  "by  thinking  that  the  contagions 
of  the  soul  are  less  than  those  of  the  body.  They  are 
yet  greater;  they  sink  deeper,  and  come  on  more 
unsuspectedly."  From  impure  air,  we  take  diseases; 
from  bad  company,  vice  and  imperfection.  Avoid,  as 
much  as  you  can,  the  company  of  all  vicious  persons 
whatever;  for  no  vice  is  alone,  and  all  are  infectious. 

Men  carry  unconscious  signs  of  their  life  about  them, 
those  that  come  from  the  forge  and  those  from  the  lime 
and  mortar,  and  those  from  dusty  travel  bear  signs  of 
being  workmen  and  of  their  work.  One  needs  not  ask 
a  merry  face  or  a  sad  one  whether  it  hath  come  from 
joy  or  from  grief.  Tears  and  laughter  tell  their  own 
story.  Should  one  come  home  with  fruit,  we  say — 
"You  have  come  from  the  orchard."  If  with  hands 
full  of  wild  flowers,  "You  have  come  from  the  field." 
If  one's  garments  smell  of  mingled  odors,  we  say, 
"You  have  walked  in  a  garden."  So  with  associ- 
ations—  those  that  walk  with  the  just,  the  upright, 
have  the  sweetest  incense  that  has  ever  anointed  man 
Let  no  man  deceive  himself. 

Do  you  love  the  society  of  the  vulgar?  Then  you  are 
already  debased  in  your  sentiments.  Do  you  seek  to 
be  with  the  profane?  in  your  heart  you  are  like  them. 


ASSOCIATES. 


97 


Are  jesters  and  buffoons  your  choice  friends?  He  who 
loves  to  laugh  at  folly  is  himself  a  fool.  Do  you  love 
and  seek  the  society  of  the  wise  and  good?  Is  this 
your  habit?  Had  you  rather  take  the  lowest  seat 
among  these  than  the  highest  seat  among^thers  ?  Then 
you  have  already  learned  to  be  good.  You  may  not 
make  very  much  progress,  but  even  a  good  beginning 
is  not  to  be  despised.  Hold  on  your  way,  and  seek  to 
be  the  companion  of  those  that  fear  God.  So  you  shall 
be  wise  for  yourself,  and  wise  for  eternity. 

No  man  of  position  can  allow  himself  to  associate, 
without  prejudice,  with  the  profane,  the  Sabbath-break- 
ers, the  drunken  and  the  licentious,  for  he  lowers  him- 
self, without  elevating  them.  The  sweep  is  not  made 
the  less  black  by  rubbing  against  the  well-dressed  and 
the  clean,  while  they  are  inevitably  defiled.  Nothing 
elevates  us  so  much  as  the  presence  of  a  spirit  similar, 
yet  superior,  to  our  own.  What  is  companionship, 
where  nothing  that  improves  the  intellect  is  communi- 
cated, and  where  the  larger  heart  contracts  itself  to  the 
model  and  dimension  of  the  smaller? 

Washington  was  wont  to  say,  uBe  courteous  to  all, 
but  intimate  with  few,  knd  let  those  few  be  well  tried 
before  you  give  them  your  confidence."  It  should  be 
the  aim  of  young  men  to  go  into  good  society.  We  do 
not  mean  the  rich,  the  proud  and  fashionable,  but  the 
society  of  the  wise,  the  intelligent  and  good.  Where 
you  find  men  that  know  more  than  you  do,  and  from 
whose  conversation  one  can  gain  information,  it  is 
always  safe  to  be  found.  It  has  broken  down  many  a 
man  by  associating  with  the  low  and  vulgar,  where  the 
7 


'98 


ASSOCIATES. 


ribald  song  and  the  indecent  story  were  introduced  to 
excite  laughter.  If  you  wish  to  be  respected — if  you 
desire  happiness  and  not  misery,  we  advise  you  to  asso- 
ciate with  the  intelligent  and  good.  Strive  for  mental 
excellence  and  strict  integrity,  and  you  never  will  be 
found  in  the  sinks  of  pollution,  and  on  the  benches  of 
retailers  and  gamblers.  Once  habituate  yourself  to  a 
virtuous  course — once  secure  a  love  of  good  society, 
and  no  punishment  would  be  greater  than  by  accident 
to  be  obliged  for  a  half  a  day  to  associate  with  the  low 
and  vulgar.  Try  to  frequent  the  company  of  your 
betters.  In  book  and  life  it  is  the  most  wholesome 
society;  learn  to  admire  rightly;  that  is  the  great  pleas- 
ure of  life.  Note  what  the  great  men  admire — they 
admire  great  things;  narrow  spirits  admire  basely  and 
worship  meanly.  Some  persons  choose  their  associates 
as  they  do  other  useful  animals,  preferring  those  from 
whom  they  expect  the  most  service.  Procure  no  friends 
in  haste,  nor,  if  once  secured,  in  haste  abandon  them. 
Be  slow  in  choosing  an  associate  and  slower  to  change 
him;  slight  no  man  for  poverty,  nor  esteem  any  one  for 
his  wealth.  Good  friends  should  not  be  easily  forgotten, 
nor  used  as  suits  of  apparel,  which,  when  we  have  worn 
them  threadbare,  we  cast  off  and  call  for  new.  When 
once  you  profess  yourself  a  friend,  endeavor  to  be 
always  such.  He  can  never  have  any  true  friends  that 
will  be  often  changing  them.  Whoever  moves  you  to 
part  with  a  true  and  tried  friend,  has  certainly  a  design 
to  make  way  for  a  treacherous  enemy.  To  part  with  a 
tried  friend  without  very  great  provocation,  is  unreason- 
able levity.    Nothing  but  plain  malevolence  can  justify 


ASSOCIATES. 


99 


disunion.  The  loss  of  a  friend  is  like  that  of  a  limb; 
time  may  heal  the  anguish  of  the  wound,  but  the  loss 
cannot  be  repaired. 

When  you  have  once  found  your  proper  associate, 
then  stick  to  him  —  make  him  your  friend  —  a  close 
friend ;  do  all  you  can  to  improve  him  and  learn  all  you 
can  of  him;  let  his  good  qualities  become  yours;  one 
is  not  bound  to  bear  a  part  in  the  follies  of  a  friend, 
but  rather  to  dissuade  him  from  them;  even  though  he 
cannot  consent  to  tell  him  plainly,  as  Phocian  did  Anti- 
pater,  who  said  to  him,  "I  cannot  be  both  your  friend 
and  flatterer.' '  It  is  a  good  rule  always  to  back  your 
friends  and  face  your  enemies.  Whoever  would  reclaim 
his  friend,  and  bring  him  to  a  true  and  perfect  under- 
standing of  himself,  may  privately  admonish,  but  never 
publicly  reprehend  him.  An  open  admonition  is  an 
open  disgrace. 

Have  the  courage  to  cut  the  most  agreeable  acquaint- 
ance you  have,  when  you  are  convinced  he  lacks  prin- 
ciple; a  friend  should  bear  with  a  friend's  infirmities, 
but  not  with  his  vices.  He  that  does  a  base  thing  in 
zeal  for  his  friend,  burns  the  golden  thread  that  ties 
their  hearts  together. 

If  you  have  once  chosen  the  proper  person  as  an 
associate  and  a  friend,  then  you  have  a  friend  for  life- 
time, and  you  will  always  cherish  and  honor  him;  but 
the  neglected  child,  the  reckless  youth,  the  wrecked 
and  wretched  man  will  haunt  you  with  memories  of 
melancholy,  with  grief  and  despair.  How  we  will 
curse  those  associates  that  dragged  us  down  to  ruin 


100 


ASSOCIATES. 


and  destruction,  and  how  love  to  repeat  the  names  of 
old  friends. 

"Old  friends!"  What  a  multitude  of  deep  and  varied 
emotions  are  called  forth  from  the  soul  by  the  utterance 
of  these  two  words.  What  thronging  memories  of 
other  days  crowd  the  brain  when  they  are  spoken.  Ah, 
there  is  a  magic  in  the  sound  and  the  spell  which  it 
creates  is  both  sad  and  pleasing.  As  we  sit  by  our 
fireside,  while  the  winds  are  making  wild  melody  with- 
out the  walls  of  our  cottage,  and  review  the  scenes  of 
by-gone  years  which  flit  before  us  in  swift  succession, 
dim  and  shadowy  as  the  recollections  of  a  dream  — 
how  those  "old  familiar  faces"  will  rise  up  and  haunt 
our  vision  with  their  well  remembered  features.  But 
ah,  where  are  they?  those  friends  of  our  youth — those 
kindred  spirits  who  shared  our  joy  and  sorrows  when 
first  we  started  in  the  pilgrimage  of  life.  Companions 
of  our  early  days,  they  are  endeared  to  us  by  many  a 
tie,  and  we  now  look  back  through  the  vista  of  years 
upon  the  hours  of  our  communion,  as  upon  green  oases 
in  a  sandy  waste.  Years  have  passed  over  us  with 
their  buds  and  flowers,  their  fruits  and  snows;  and 
where  now  are  those  "old  familiar  faces?"  They  are 
scattered,  and  over  many  of  their  last  narrow  homes 
the  thistle  waves  its  lonely  head ;  "  after  life's  fitful 
fever  they  sleep  well."  Some  are  buffeting  the  billows 
of  time's  stormy  sea  in  distant  lands;  though  they  are 
absent  our  thoughts  are  often  with  them. 


INFLUENCE. 


101 


%nUnmtt. 

Away  up  among  the  Alleghanies  there  is  a  spring 
so  small  that  a  single  ox  on  a  summer's  day  could  drain 
it  dry.  It  steals  its  unobtrusive  way  among  the  hills, 
till  it  spreads  out  into  the  beautiful  Ohio.  Thence  it 
stretches  away  a  thousand  miles,  leaving  on  its  banks 
more  than  a  hundred  villages  and  cities  and  many  a 
cultivated  farm;  then  joining  the  Mississippi,  it  stretches 
away  some  twelve  hundred  miles  more,  till  it  falls  into 
the  emblem  of  eternity.  It  is  one  of  the  greatest 
tributaries  to  the  ocean,  which .  obedient  only  to  God, 
shall  roar  till  the  angel  with  one  foot  on  the  sea  and  the 
other  on  the  land,  shall  swear  that  time  shall  be  no 
longer.  So  with  moral  influence.  It  is  a  rill  —  a 
rivulet — an  ocean,  and  as  boundless  and  fathomless  as 
eternity. 

"The  stone,  flung  from  my  careless  hand  into  the 
lake,  splashed  down  into  the  depths  of  the  flowing 
water,  and  that  was  all.  No,  it  was  not  all.  Look  at 
those  concentric  rings,  rolling  their  tiny  ripples  among 
the  sedgy  reeds,  dippling  the  overhanging  boughs  of 
yonder  willow,  and  producing  an  influence,  slight  but 
conscious,  to  the  very  shores  of  the  lake  itself.  That 
stray  word,  that  word  of  pride  or  scorn,  flung  from  my 
lips  in  casual  company,  produces  a  momentary  depres- 
sion, and  that  is  all.  No,  it  is  not  all.  It  deepened 
that  man's  disgust  at  godliness,  and  it  sharpened  the 
edge  of  that  man's  sarcasm,  and  it  shamed  that  half- 
converted  one  out  of  his  penitent  misgivings,  and  it 
produced  an  influence,  slight,  but  eternal,  on  the  destiny 


102 


HABIT. 


of  a  human  life.  O,  it  is  a  terrible  power  that  I  have — 
this  power  of  influence  —  and  it  clings  to  me.  I  cannot 
shake  it  off.  It  is  born  with  me;  it  has  grown  with  my 
growth,  and  is  strengthened  with  my  strength,  it 
speaks,  it  walks,  it  moves;  it  is  powerful  in  every  look 
of  my  eye,  in  every  word  of  my  lips,  in  every  act  of 
my  life.  I  cannot  live  to  myself.  I  must  either  be  a 
light  to  illumine,  or  a  tempest  to  destroy.  I  must  either 
be  an  Abel,  who,  by  his  immortal  righteousness,  being 
dead  yet  speaketh,  or  an  Achan,  the  sad  continuance  of 
whose  otherwise  forgotten  name  is  the  proof  that  man 
perishes  not  alone  in  his  iniquity.  Dear  reader,  this 
necessary  element  of  power  belongs  to  you  The 
sphere  may  be  contracted,  thine  influence  may  be  small, 
but  a  sphere  and  influence  you  surely  have." 

Every  human  being  is  a  center  of  influence  for  good 
or  for  ill.  No  man  can  live  unto  himself.  The  meshes 
of  a  net  are  not  more  surely  knit  together  than  man  to 
man.  We  may  forget  this  secret,  silent  influence.  But 
we  are  exerting  it  by  our  deeds,  we  are  exerting  it  by 
our  words,  we  are  exerting  it  by  our  very  thoughts  — 
and  he  is  wise  with  a  wisdom  more  than  that  of  earth 
who  seeks  to  put  forth  the  highest  power  for  good,  be 
his  home  a  hut  or  a  hall,  a  cabin  or  a  palace. 


H abit  in  a  child  is  at  first  like  a  spider's  web ;  if  neg- 
lected it  becomes  a  thread  of  twine;  next,  a  cord  of 


HABIT. 


103 


rope;  finally,  a  cable — then  who  can  break  it?  There 
are  habits  contracted  by  bad  example,  or  bad  manage- 
ment, before  we  have  judgment  to  discern  their  ap- 
proaches, or  because  the  eye  of  reason  is  laid  asleep,  or 
has  not  compass  of  view  sufficient  to  look  around  on 
ever}*  quarter. 

O,  the  tyranny,  the  despotism  of  a  bad  habit!  Cole- 
ridge, one  of  the  subtlest  intellects  and  finest  poets  of 
his  time,  battled  for  twenty  years  before  he  could 
emancipate  himself  from  his  tyrant,  opium.  He  went 
into  voluntary  imprisonment.  He  hired  a  man  to  watch 
him  day  and  night,  and  keep  him  by  force  from  tasting 
the  pernicious  drug.  He  formed  resolution  alter  reso- 
lution. Yet,  during  all  the  best  years  of  his  life,  he 
wasted  his  substance  and  his  health,  neglected  his  family, 
and  lived  degraded  and  accursed  because  he  had  not 
resolution  to  abstain.  He  would  lay  plans  to  cheat  the 
very  man  whom  he  paid  to  keep  the  drug  from  him, 
and  bribe  the  jailor  to  whom  he  had  voluntarily  surren- 
dered himself. 

Terrible,  terrible  is  the  despotism  of  a  bad  habit. 
The  case  of  Coleridge  is  an  extreme  one  of  course. 
But  there  are  many,  whose  eyes  these  lines  will  meet, 
who  are  as  truly  the  slaves  of  a  perverted  appetite  as 
he.  Their  despot  may  be  opium,  tobacco,  drink,  or 
worse;  but  they  are  so  completely  under  the  dominion 
of  their  master,  that  nothing  short  of  a  moral  war  of 
independence,  which  should  task  all  their  own  strength, 
and  all  they  could  borrow  from  others,  would  suffice  to 
deliver  them. 

J.  B.  Gough  uses  the  following  as  a  powerful  illustra- 


104 


HABIT. 


tion:  I  remember  once  riding  from  Buffalo  to  Niagara 
Falls.    I  said  to  a  gentleman,  "What  river  is  that,  sir?" 

"That,"  he  said,  ais  Niagara  river.'" 

"Well,  it  is  a  beautiful  stream,  said  I;  "bright  and 
fair  and  glassy;  how  far  off  are  the  rapids?" 

"  Only  a  mile  or  two,"  was  the  reply. 

"Is  it  possible  that  only  a  mile  from  us  we  shall  find 
the  water  in  the  turbulence  which  it  must  show  near  to 
the  falls?" 

"You  will  find  it  so,  sir."  And  so  I  found  it;  and  the 
first  sight  of  Niagara  I  shall  never  forget.  Now,  launch 
your  bark  on  that  Niagara  river;  it  is  bright,  smooth, 
beautiful  and  glassy.  There  is  a  ripple  at  the  bow ;  the 
silver  wave  you  leave  behind  adds  to  the  enjoyment. 

Down  the  stream  you  glide,  oars,  sails  and  helm  in 
proper  trim,  and  you  set  out  on  your  pleasure  excur- 
sion. Suddenly  some  one  cries  out  from  the  bankr 
"Young  men,  ahoy!" 

"What  is  it?" 

"The  rapids  are  below  you." 

"Ha!  ha!  we  have  heard  of  the  rapids,  but  we  are 
not  such  fools  as  to  get  there.  If  we  go  too  fast,  then 
we  shall  up  with  the  helm  and  steer  to  the  shore;  we 
will  set  the  mast  in  the  socket,  hoist  the  sail,  and  speed 
to  the  land.  Then  on,  boys;  don't  be  alarmed — there 
is  no  danger." 

"Young  men,  ahoy  there!" 

"What  is  it?" 

"The  rapids  are  below  you!" 

"Ha!  ha!  we  will  laugh  and  quaff;  all  things  delight 
us.    What  care  we  for  the  future!    No  man  ever  saw 


HABIT.  105 

it.  Sufficient  for  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof.  We  will 
enjoy  life  while  we  may;  will  catch  pleasure  as  it  flies. 
This  is  enjoyment;  time  enough  to  steer  out  of  danger 
when  we  are  sailing  swiftly  with  the  current.' 1 

"Young  men,  ahoy!" 

"What  is  it?" 

"Beware!   Beware!    The  rapids  are  below  you!" 

Now  you  see  the  water  foaming  all  around.  See  how 
fast  you  pass  that  point!  Up  with  the  helm!  Now 
turn!  Pull  hard!  quick!  quick!  quick!  pull  for  your 
lives!  pull  till  the  blood  starts  from  the  nostrils,  and  the 
veins  stand  like  whip-cords  upon  the  brow!  Set  the 
mast  in  the  socket!  hoist  the  sail! — ah!  ah!  it  is  too 
late!  Shrieking,  cursing,  howling,  blaspheming,  over 
they  go. 

Thousands  go  over  the  rapids  every  year,  through 
the  power  of  habit,  crying  all  the  while,  "When  I  find 
out  that  it  is  injuring  me  I  will  give  it  up!" 

Few  people  form  habits  of  wrong-doing  deliberately 
or  willfully ;  they  glide  into  them  by  degrees  and  almost 
unconsciously,  and  before  they  are  aware  of  danger, 
the  habits  are  confirmed  and  require  resolute  and  per- 
sistent effort  to  effect  a  change.  "Resist  beginning," 
was  a  maxim  of  the  ancients,  and  should  be  preserved  as 
a  landmark  in  our  day.  Those  who  are  prodigal  or  pas- 
sionate, or  indolent,  or  visionary,  soon  make  shipwreck 
of  themselves,  and  drift  about  the  sea  of  life,  the  prey 
of  every  wind  and  current,  vainly  shrieking  for  help, 
till  at  last  they  drift  awa}'  into  darkness  and  death. 

Take  care  that  you  are  not  drifting.  See  that  you 
have  fast  hold  of  the  helm.    The  breakers  of  life  for- 


106  HABIT. 


ever  roar  under  the  lee.  and  adverse  gales  continually 
blow  on  the  shore.  Are  you  watching  how  she  heads? 
Do  you  keep  a  firm  grip  of  the  wheel?  If  you  give 
way  but  for  one  moment  you  may  drift  hopelessly  into 
the  boiling  vortex.  Young  men,  take  care!  It  rests 
with  yourselves  alone  under  God,  whether  you  reach 
port  triumphantly  or  drift  to  ruin. 

Be  not  slow  in  the  breaking  of  a  sinful  custom;  a 
quick,  courageous  resolution  is  better  than  a  gradual 
deliberation;  in  such  a  combat,  he  is  the  bravest  soldier 
who  lays  about  him  without  fear  or  wit.  Wit  pleads, 
fear  disheartens;  he  that  would  kill  hydra,  had  better 
strike  off  one  neck  than  five  heads;  fell  the  tree,  and 
the  branches  are  soon  cut  off. 

Whatever  be  the  cause,  says  Lord  Karnes,  it  is  an 
established  fact,  that  we  are  much  influenced  by  custom; 
it  hath  an  effect  upon  our  pleasures,  upon  our  actions, 
and  even  upon  our  thoughts  and  sentiments.  Habit 
makes  no  figure  during  the  vivacity  of  youth;  in 
middle  age  it  gains  ground;  and  in  old  age,  governs 
without  control.  In  that  period  of  life,  generally  speak- 
ing, we  eat  at  a  certain  hour,  take  exercise  at  a  certain 
hour,  go  to  rest  at  a  certain  hour,  all  by  the  direction 
of  habit;  nay,  a  particular  seat,  table,  bed,  comes  to  be 
essential;  and  a  habit  in  any  of  these  cannot  be  contra- 
dicted without  uneasiness. 

Man,  it  has  been  said,  is  a  bundle  of  habits;  and 
habit  is  second  nature.  Metastasio  entertained  so 
strong  an  opinion  as  to  the  power  of  repetition  in  act 
and  thought,  that  he  said,  "All  is  habit  in  mankind, 
even  virtue  itself." 


HABIT. 


107 


Evil  habits  must  be  conquered,  or  they  will  conquei 
us  and  destroy  our  peace  and  happiness. 

Vicious  habits  are  so  great  a  stain  upon  human 
nature,  said  Cicero,  and  so  odious  in  themselves,  that 
every  person  actuated  by  right  reason  would  avoid 
them,  though  he  was  sure  they  would  always  be  con- 
cealed both  from  God  and  man,  and  had  no  future  pun- 
ishment entailed  upon  them. 

Vicious  habits,  when  opposed,  offer  the  most  vigorous 
resistance  on  the  first  attack.  At  each  successive 
encounter  this  resistance  grows  fainter  and  fainter,  until 
finally  it  ceases  altogether  and  the  victory  is  achieved. 

Habit  is  man's  best  friend  or  worst  enemy;  it  can 
exalt  him  to  the  highest  pinnacle  of  virtue,  honor  and 
happiness,  or  sink  him  to  the  lowest  depths  of  vice, 
shame  and  misery. 

We  may  form  habits  of  honesty,  or  knavery;  truth, 
or  falsehood;  of  industry,  or  idleness;  frugality,  or 
extravagance;  of  patience,  or  impatience;  self-denial, 
or  self-indulgence ;  of  kindness,  cruelty,  politeness,  rude- 
ness, prudence,  perseverance,  circumspection.  In  short 
there  is  not  a  virtue,  nor  a  vice ;  not  an  act  of  body,  nor 
of  mind,  to  which  we  may  not  be  chained  down  by  this 
despotic  power. 

It  is  a  great  point  for  young  men  to  begin  well;  for 
it  is  in  the  beginning  of  life  that  that  system  of  conduct 
is  adopted  which  soon  assumes  the  force  of  habit. 
Begin  well,  and  the  habit  of  doing  well  will  become 
quite  as  easy  as  the  habit  of  doing  badly.  Pitch  upon 
that  course  of  life  which  is  the  most  excellent,  and 
habit  will  render  it  the  most  delightful.    Well  begun  is 


108 


COMPANY. 


half  ended,  says  the  proverb;  and  a  good  beginning  is 
half  the  battle.  Many  promising  young  men  have 
irretrievably  injured  themselves  by  a  first  false  step  at 
the  commencement  of  life;  while  others,  of  much  less 
promising  talents,  have  succeeded  simply  by  beginning 
well,  and  going  onward.  The  good  practical  beginning 
is,  to  a  certain  extent,  a  pledge,  a  promise,  and  an  assu- 
rance, of  the  ultimate  prosperous  issue.  There  is  many 
a  poor  creature,  now  crawling  through  life,  miserable 
himself  and  the  cause  of  sorrow  to  others,  who  might 
have  lifted  up  his  head  and  prospered,  if,  instead  of 
merely  satisfying  himself  with  resolutions  of  well-doing, 
he  had  actually  gone  to  work  and  made  a  good  practical 
•beginning. 


Congenial  passions  souls  together  bind, 
And  every  calling  mingles  with  its  kind  ; 
Soldier  unites  with  soldier,  swain  with  swain, 
The  mariner  with  him  that  roves  the  main. 

— F.  Lewis. 

That  we  may  be  known  by  the  company  we  fre- 
quent, has  become  proverbial.  For,  when  unrestrained, 
we  are  prone  to  choose  and  associate  with  those  whose 
manners  and  dispositions  are  agreeable  and  congenial 
to  ours.  Hence,  when  we  find  persons  frequenting  any 
company  whatsoever,  we  are  disposed  to  believe  that 


COMPANY. 


10S 


such  company  is  congenial  with  their  feelings,  not  only 
in  regard  to  their  intellectual  capacities  and  accomplish- 
ments, but  also  their  moral  disposition  and  their  partic- 
ular manner  in  life. 

Good  company  not  only  improves  our  manners,  but 
also  our  minds;  for  intelligent  associates  will  become  a 
source  of  enjoyment,  as  well  as  of  edification.  If  they 
be  pious  they  will  improve  our  morals ;  if  they  be  polite 
they  will  tend  to  improve  our  manners;  if  they  be 
learned  they  will  add  to  our  knowledge  and  correct 
our  errors.  On  the  other  hand,  if  they  be  immoral, 
ignorant,  vulgar,  their  impress  will  most  surely  be  left 
upon  us.  It  therefore  becomes  a  matter  of  no  trivial 
concern  to  select  and  associate  with  proper  company,, 
while  avoiding  that  which  is  certainly  prejudicial. 

We  should  always  seek  the  company  of  those  wha 
are  known  to  possess  superior  merit  and  natural  endow- 
ments; for  then,  by  being  assimilated  in  manners  and 
disposition,  we  rise.  Whereas,  by  associating  with 
those  who  are  our  inferiors  in  every  respect,  we  become 
assimilated  with  them,  and  by  that  assimilation  become 
degraded.  Upon  the  whole  much  care  and  judgment 
are  necessary  in  selecting  properly  that  company  which 
will  be  profitable.  Yet  this  is  not  a  point  of  so  great 
interest  among  females  as  men;  because  they  are  not 
necessarily  thrown  into  such  promiscuous  associations 
of  such  diversity  of  character  as  the  latter.  Neverthe- 
less, the  greater  care  and  prudence  are  requisite  to 
them,  should  they  happen  in  such  circles,  to  avoid  their 
pernicious  influence,  to  which  most  are  too  prone  to- 
yield. 


110 


COMPANY. 


Good  company  is  that  which  is  composed  of  intelli- 
gent and  well-bred  persons;  whose  language  is  chaste 
and  good;  whose  sentiments  are  pure  and  edifying; 
whose  deportment  is  such  as  pure  and  Well-regulated 
education  and  correct  morals  dictate;  and  whose  con- 
duct is  directed  and  restrained  by  the  pure  precepts  of 
religion. 

When  we  have  the  advantage  of  such  company,  it 
should  be  the  object  of  our  zeal  "to  imitate  their  real 
perfections;  copy  their  politeness,  their  carriage,  their 
address,  and  the  easy  well-bred  turn  of  their  conversa- 
tion ;  but  we  should  remember  that,  let  them  shine  ever 
so  bright,  their  vices  (if  they  have  any)  are  so  many 
blemishes,  which  we  should  no  more  endeavor  to  imi- 
tate than  we  should  make  artificial  warts  on  our  faces 
because  some  very  handsome  lady  happened  to  have 
one  by  nature.  We  should,  on  the  contrary,  think 
how  much  handsomer  she  would  have  been  without  it." 

What  can  be  more  pleasing  and  more  angelic,  than 
a  young  lady,  virtuous  and  adorned  with  the  graces 
and  elegances  of  finished  politeness,  based  upon  a  sound 
intellect,  and  well  improved  mind! 

"  For  her  inconstant  man  might  cease  to  range, 
And  gratitude  forbid  desire  to  change." 

The  reflection  is  pleasing,  that  it  is  in  the  power  of 
all  to  acquire  an  elegance  of  manner,  although  they 
may  be  deprived  of  the  advantages  to  be  derived  from 
a  liberal  education.  At  least  they  may  attain  to  that 
degree  of  elegance  and  manners,  by  judicious  selection 
of  company,  that  will  render  them  pleasing  in  any 


FORCE  OF  CHARACTER. 


Ill 


social  circle,  whether  at  home  or  abroad.  This  will 
excite  interest,  which  will  grow  into  respect;  from 
which  always  springs  that  pure,  ardent,  and  affection 
ate  attachment  which  alone  forms  the.  only  generous 
and  indissoluble  connection  between  the  sexes ;  that 
which  the  lapse  of  time  serves  only  to  confirm,  and 
nought  but  death  can  destroy. 

If  so  much  importance  be  attached  to  the  prudent 
selection  of  company  and  associates,  and  if  this  be  of 
such  vital  interest  to  every  young  female,  how  careful 
should  she  be  in  taking  to  her  bosom  for  life  a  compan- 
ion of  dissolute  habits  and  morals.  Such  an  act  might 
destroy  all  the  domestic  felicity  she  might  have  hoped 
to  enjoy,  and  be  a  source  of  constant  sorrow  to  her 
through  life. 

"  Oh  shun  my  friend,  avoid  that  dangerous  coast 
Where  peace  expires,  and  fair  affection's  lost." 

For  no  connection  or  friendship  can  be  fond  and  last- 
ing, where  a  conformity  of  inclination  and  disposition 
does  not  exist;  but  where  this  exists,  all  passions  and 
finer  feelings  of  the  soul  gently  harmonize,  and  form 
one  common  and  lasting  interest. 


What  you  can  effect  depends  on  what  you  are. 
You  put  your  whole  self  into  all  that  you  do.    If  that 


112 


FORGE  OF  CHARACTER. 


self  be  small,  and  lean,  and  mean,  your  entire  life-work 
is  paltry,  your  words  have  no  force,  your  influence  has 
no  weight.  If  that  self  be  true  and  high,  pure  and 
kind,  vigorous  and  forceful,  your  strokes  are  blows, 
your  notes  staccatos,  your  work  massive,  your  influence 
cogent  —  you  can  do  what  you  will.  Whatever  your 
position,  you  are  a  power,  you  are  felt  as  a  kingly  spirit, 
you  are  as  one  having  authority.  Too  many  think  of 
character  chiefly  in  its  relation  to  the  life  beyond  the 
grave.  I  certainly  would  not  have  less  thought  of  it 
with  reference  to  that  unknown  future,  on  the  margin 
of  which  some  of  us  undoubtedly  are  at  this  moment 
standing;  but  I  do  wish  that  more  consideration  were 
bestowed  upon  its  earthly  uses.  I  would  have  young 
men,  as  they  start  in  life,  regard  character  as  a  capital, 
much  surer  to  yield  full  returns  than  any  other  capital, 
unaffected  by  panics  and  failures,  fruitful  when  all  other 
investments  lie  dormant,  having  as  certain  promise  in 
the  present  life  as  in  that  which  is  to  come. 

Franklin,  also,  attributed  his  success  as  a  public  man, 
not  to  his  talents  or  his  powers  of  speaking — for  these 
were  but  moderate — but  to  his  known  integrity  of 
character.  "Hence,  it  was,"  he  says,  "that  I  had  so 
much  weight  with  my  fellow-citizens.  I  was  but  a  bad 
speaker,  never  eloquent,  subject  to  much  hesitation  in 
my  choice  of  words,  hardly  correct  in  language,  and 
yet  I  generally  carried  my  point."  Character  creates 
confidence  in  men  in  every  station  of  life.  It  was  said 
of  the  first  Emperor  Alexander  of  Russia  that  his  per- 
sonal character  was  equivalent  to  a  constitution.  During 
the  wars  of  the  Fronde,  Montaigne  was  the  only  man 


FORCh  OF  CHARACTER. 


113 


among  the  /rench  gentry  who  kept  his  castle  gates, 
unbarred;  and  it  was  said  of  him,  that  his  personal 
character  was  worth  more  to  him  than  a  regiment  of 
horse. 

There  are  trying  and  perilous  circumstances  in  life, 
which  show  how  valuable  and  important  a  good  char- 
acter is.  It  is  a  sure  and  strong  staff  of  support,  when 
everything  else  fails.  It  is  the  Acropolis  which  remains 
impregnable,  imparting  security  and  peace  when  all  the 
other  defenses  have  been  surrendered  to  the  enemy. 
The  higher  walks  of  life  are  treacherous  and  danger- 
ous; the  lower  full  of  obstacles  and  impediments.  We 
can  only  be  secure  in  either,  by  maintaining  those 
principles  which  are  just,  praiseworthy,  and  pure,  and 
which  inspire  bravery  in  ourselves  and  confidence  in 
others. 

Truthfulness,  integrity  and  goodness — qualities  that 
hang  not  on  any  man's  breath — form  the  essence  of 
manly  character,  or,  as  one  of  our  old  writers  has  it, 
"  that  inbred  loyalty  unto  virtue  which  can  serve  her 
without  a  livery. "  He  who  possesses  these  qualities^ 
united  with  strength  of  purpose,  carries  with  him  a 
power  which  is  irresistible.  He  is  strong  to  do  good, 
strong  to  resist  evil,  and  strong  to  bear  up  under  diffi 
culty  and  misfortune.  When  Stephen  of  Coloma  fell 
into  the  hands  of  his  base  assailants,  and  they  asked 
him,  in  derision,  "Where  is  now  your  fortress?" 
"  Here,"  was  his  bold  reply,  placing  his  hand  upon  his 
heart.  It  is  in  misfortune  that  the  character  of  the 
upright  man  shines  forth  with  the  greatest  luster;  and, 
when  all  else  fails,  he  takes  stand  upon  his  integrity  and 
8 


114 


FORCE  OF  CHARACTER. 


his  courage.  In  the  famous  battle  at  Thermopylae,  the 
three  hundred  Spartans,  who  alone  had  refused  to 
abandon  the  scene  of  action,  withstood  the  enemy  with 
such  vigor  that  they  were  obliged  to  retire  wearied  and 
conquered  during  three  successive  days,  till  the  enemy 
suddenly  falling  upon  their  rear,  crushed  them  to  pieces. 

Strength  of  character  consists  of  two  things — power 
of  will  and  power  of  self-restraint.  It  requires  two 
things,  therefore,  for  its  existence  —  strong  feelings  and 
strong  command  over  them.  Now,  it  is  here  we  make 
a  great  mistake;  we  mistake  strong  feelings  for  strong- 
character.  A  man  who  bears  all  before  him,  before 
whose  frown  domestics  tremble,  and  whose  bursts  of 
fury  make  the  children  of  the  household  quake  — 
because  he  has  his  will  obeyed,  and  his  own  way  in  all 
things,  we  call  him  a  strong  man.  The  truth  is,  that 
is  the  weak  man;  it  is  his  passions  that  are  strong;  he, 
mastered  by  them,  is  weak.  You  must  measure  the 
strength  of  a  man  by  the  power  of  the  feelings  he  sub- 
dues, not  by  the  power  of  those  which  subdue  him. 
And  hence  composure  is  very  often  the  highest  result 
of  strength. 

Did  we  never  see  a  man  receive  a  flagrant  insult  and 
only  grow  a  little  pale,  and  then  reply  quietly?  This 
is  a  man  spiritually  strong.  Or  did  we  never  see  a  man 
in  anguish,  stand,  as  if  carved  out  of  solid  rock,  master- 
ing himself?  Or  one  bearing  a  hopeless  daily  trial 
remain  silent  and  never  tell  the  world  what  cankered 
his  home  peace?  That  is  strength.  He  who,  with 
strong  passions,  remains  chaste;  he  who,  keenly  sensi- 
tive, with  manly  powers  of  indignation  in  him,  can  be 


FORCE  OF  CHARACTER. 


115 


provoked,  and  yet  restrain  himself  and  forgive — these 
are  the  strong  men,  the  spiritual  heroes. 

The  truest  criterion  of  a  man's  character  and  conduct, 
is,  invariably,  to  be  found  in  the  opinion  of  his  nearest 
relations,  who,  having  daily  and  hourly  opportunities  of 
forming  a  judgment  of  him,  will  not  fail  in  doing  so. 
It  is  a  far  higher  testimony  in  his  favor,  for  him  to 
secure  the  esteem  and  love  of  a  few  individuals  within 
the  privacy  of  his  own  home,  than  the  good  opinion  of 
hundreds  in  his  immediate  neighborhood,  or  that  of  ten 
times  the  number  residing  at  a  distance.  The  most 
trifling  actions  that  affect  a  man's  credit  are  to  be 
regarded.  The  sound  of  your  hammer  at  five  in  the 
morning,  or  nine  at  night,  heard  by  a  creditor,  makes 
him  easy  six  months  longer;  but  if  he  sees  you  at  a 
billiard  table,  or  hears  your  voice  at  a  tavern,  when  you 
should  be  at  work,  he  sends  for  his  money  the  next  day. 

Deportment,  honesty,  caution,  and  a  desire  to  do 
right  carried  out  in  practice,  are  to  human  character 
what  truth,  reverence,  and  love  are  to  religion.  They 
are  the  unvaried  elements  of  a  good  reputation.  Such 
virtues  can  never  be  reproached,  although  the  vulgar 
and  despicable  may  scoff  at  them ;  but  it  is  not  so  much 
in  their  affected  revulsion  at  them,  as  it  is  in  the  wish 
to  reduce  them  to  the  standard  of  their  own  degraded 
natures,  and  vitiated  passions.  Let  such  scoff  and 
sneer — let  them  laugh  and  ridicule  as  much  as  they 
may — a  strict,  upright,  onward  course  will  evince  to 
the  world  and  to  them,  that  there  is  more  manly  inde- 
pendence in  one  forgiving  smile,  than  in  all  the  pretended 
exceptions  to  worthiness  in  the  society  of  the  mean  and 


116 


INTEGRITY. 


vulgar.  Virtue  must  have  its  admirers,  and  firmness 
of  principle,  both  moral  and  religious,  will  ever  com- 
mand the  proudest  encomium  of  the  intelligent  world, 
to  the  exclusion  of  every' other  thing  connected  with 
human  existence. 

That  character  is  power  is  true  in  a  much  higher 
sense  than  that  knowledge  is  power.  Mind  without 
heart,  intelligence  without  conduct,  cleverness  without 
goodness,  are  powers  in  their  way,  but  they  may  be 
powers  only  for  mischief.  We  may*  be  instructed  or 
amused  by  them,  but  it  is  sometimes  as  difficult  to 
admire  them  as  it  would  be  to  admire  the  dexterity  of 
a  pickpocket  or  the  horsemanship  of  a  highwayman. 


Young  men  look  about  them  and  see  a  great  meas- 
ure of  worldly  success  awarded  to  men  without  princi- 
ple. They  see  the  trickster  crowned  with  public  honors, 
they  see  the  swindler  rolling  in  wealth,  they  see  the 
sharp  man,  the  over-reaching  man,  the  unprincipled 
man,  the  liar,  the  demagogue,  the  time-server,  the  trim- 
mer, the  scoundrel  who  cunningly  manages,  though 
constantly  disobeying  moral  law  and  trampling  upon 
social  courtesy,  to  keep  himself  out  of  the  clutches  of  the 
legal  police,  carrying  off  the  prizes  of  wealth  and  place. 
All  this  is  a  demoralizing  puzzle  and  a  fearful  temptation; 
and  multitudes  of  young  men  are  not  strong  enough  to 


INTEGRITY. 


117 


stand  before  it.  They  ought  to  understand  that  in  this 
wicked  world  there  is  a  great  deal  of  room  where  there 
is  integrity.  Great  trusts  may  be  sought  by  scoundrels, 
but  great  trusts  never  seek  them;  and  perfect  integrity 
is  at  a  premium  even  among  scoundrels.  There  are 
some  trusts  that  they  will  never  confer  on  each  other. 
There  are  occasions  where  they  need  the  services  of 
true  men,  and  they  do  not  find  them  in  shoals  and  in 
the  mud,  but  alone  and  in  pure  water. 

Integrity  is  the  foundation  of  all  that  is  high  in  char- 
acter among  mankind;  other  qualities  may  add  to  its 
splendor,  but  if  this  essential  requisite  be  wanting  all 
their  luster  fades.  Our  integrity  is  never  worth  so 
much  to  us  as  when  we  have  lost  everything  to  keep  it. 
Integrity  without  knowledge  is  weak;  knowledge  with- 
out integrity  is  dangerous  and  dreadful.  Integrity, 
however  rough,  is  better  than  smooth  dissimulation. 
Let  a  man  have  the  reputation  of  being  fair  and  upright 
in  his  dealings,  and  he  will  possess  the  confidence  of  all 
who  know  him.  Without  these  qualities  every  other 
merit  will  prove  unavailing.  Ask  concerning  a  man, 
"Is  he  active  and  capable?"  Yes.  "Industrious,  tem- 
perate, and  regular  in  his  habits?"  O,  yes.  "Is  he 
honest?  is  he  trustworthy?"  Why,  as  to  that,  I  am 
sorry  to  say  that  he  is  not  to  be  trusted;  he  wants 
watching;  he  is  a  little  tricky,  and  will  take  an  undue 
advantage,  if  he  can.  "Then  I  will  have  nothing  to  do 
with  him,"  will  be  the  invariable  reply.  Why,  then,  is 
honesty  the  best  policy?  Because,  without  it  you  will 
get  a  bad  name,  and  everybody  will  shun  you. 

The  world  is  always  asking  for  men  who  are  not  for 


118 


INTEGRITY. 


sale;  men  who  are  honest,  sound  from  centre  to  circum- 
ference, true  to  the  heart's  core;  men  who  will  condemn 
wrong  in  friend  or  foe,  in  themselves  as  well  as  others; 
men  whose  consciences  are  as  steady  as  the  needle  to 
the  pole ;  men  who  will  stand  for  the  right  if  the 
heavens  totter  and  the  earth  reels;  men  who  can  tell 
the  truth,  and  look  the  world  and  the  devil  right  in  the 
eye;  men  that  neither  brag  nor  run;  men  that  neither 
flag  nor  flinch;  men  who  can  have  courage  without 
shouting  to  it ;  men  in  whom  the  courage  of  everlasting 
life  runs  still,  deep,  and  strong;  men  who  do  not  cry, 
nor  cause  their  voices  to  be  heard  on  the  streets,  but 
who  will  not  fail  nor  be  discouraged  till  judgment  be 
set  in  the  earth;  men  who  know  their  message  and  tell 
it;  men  who  know  their  places  and  fill  them;  men  who 
know  their  own  business;  men  who  will  not  lie;  men 
who  are  not  too  lazy  to  work,  not  too  proud  to  be  poor; 
men  who  are  willing  to  eat  what  they  have  earned,  and 
wear  what  they  have  paid  for.  It  is  always  safe  to 
trust  those  who  can  trust  themselves,  but  when  a  man 
suspects  his  own  integrity,  it  is  time  he  was  suspected 
by  others.  Moral  degradation  always  begins  at  home. 
Honesty  is  never  gained  or  lost  suddenly,  or  by  acci- 
dent.  Moral  strength  or  moral  weakness  takes  posses- 
sion of  us  by  slow  and  imperceptible  degrees. 

Avoid — and  young  men  especially — avoid  all  base, 
servile,  underhand,  sneaking  ways.  Part  with  anything 
rather  than  your  integrity  and  conscious  rectitude;  flee 
from  injustice  as  you  would  from  a  viper's  fangs;  avoid 
a  lie  as  you  would  the  gates  of  hell.  Some  there  are 
who  are  callous  as  to  this.    Some  there  are  who,  in 


INTEGRITY. 


119 


stooping  to  mercantile  dishonor  and  baseness  —  in  driv- 
ing the  immoral  bargain — think  they  have  done  a 
clever  action.  Things  are  often  called  by  their  wrong 
names;  duplicity  is  called  shrewdness,  and  wrong-heart  - 
edness  is  called  long-headedness;  evil  is  called  good, 
and  good  evil,  and  darkness  is  put  for  light,  and  light 
for  darkness.  Well !  be  it  so.  You  may  be  prosperous 
in  your  own  eyes;  you  may  have  realized  an  envied 
fortune;  you  may  have  your  carriage,  and  plate,  and 
servants,  and  pageantry;  but  rather  the  shielding  and 
the  crust  of  bread  with  a  good  conscience,  than  the 
stately  dwelling  or  palace  without  it.  Rather  than  the 
marble  mausoleum,  which  gilds  and  smothers  tales  of 
heartless  villainy  and  fraud — rather,  far  rather,  that 
lowly  heap  of  grass  we  w^ere  wont  often  to  gaze  upon 
in  an  old  village  churchyard,  with  the  simple  record  of 
a  cotter's  virtues:  "Here  lies  an  honest  man/"  There 
is  nothing  more  sad  than  to  be  carried  like  a  vessel 
away  from  the  straight  course  of  principle;  to  be  left  a 
stranded  outcast  thing  on  the  sands  of  dishonor:  a  man 
bolstering  himself  up  in  a  position  he  is  not  entitled  to. 
"That  is  a  man  of  capital"  says  the  world,  pointing 
to  an  unscrupulous  and  successful  swindler.  Capital! 
What  is  capital  ?  Is  it  what  a  man  has  P  Is  it  counted 
by  pounds  and  pence,  stocks  and  shares,  by  houses  and 
lands  ?  No !  capital  is  not  what  a  man  has,  but  what  a 
man  is.  Character  is  capital;  honor  is  capital.  That 
is  the  most  fearful  of  ruin  when  character  is  gone,  when 
integrity  is  sold,  when  honor  is  bartered  for  a  miserable 
mess  of  earthly  pottage.  God  save  us  from  ruin  like 
this !    Perish  what  may ;  perish  gold,  silver,  houses, 


120 


POOR  BOYS. 


lands;  let  the  winds  of  misfortune  dash  our  vessel  ok 
the  sunken  rock,  but  let  integrity  be  like  the  valued 
keepsake  which  the  sailor  boy  lashed  wich  the  rope 
round  his  body,  the  only  thing  we  care  to  save.  Let 
me  die;  but  let  angels  read,  if  friends  cannot  afford  to 
erect  the  grave  stone:  "Here  lies  an  honest  man." 

Many  men  have  been  obscure  in  their  origin  and 
birth,  but  great  and  glorious  in  life  and  death.  They 
have  been  born  and  nurtured  in  villages,  but  have 
reigned  and  triumphed  in  cities.  They  were  first 
laid  in  the  mangers  of  poverty  and  obscurity,  but 
have  afterwards  become  possessors  of  thrones  and 
palaces.  Their  fame  is  like  the  pinnacle  which 
ascends  higher  and  higher,  until  at  last  it  becomes  a 
most  conspicuous  and  towering  object  of  attraction. 

Columbus  was  the  son  of  a  weaver,  and  a  weaver 
himself.  Cervantes  was  a  common  soldier.  Homer 
was  the  son  of  a  small  farmer.  Moliere  was  the  son 
of  a  tapestry  maker.  Demosthenes  was  the  son  of  a 
cutler.  Terrence  was  a  slave.  Oliver  Cromwell  was 
the  son  of  a  London  brewer.  Howard  was  an  appren- 
tice to  a  grocer.  Franklin  was  the  son  of  a  tallow- 
chandler  and  soap  boiler.  Dr.  Thomas,  Bishop  of 
Worcester,  was  the  son  of  a  linen-draper.  Daniel 
Defoe,  hostler  and  son  of  a  butcher.    Whitfield  was 


POO  It  BOYS. 


121 


the  son  of  an  inn-keeper.  Virgil  was  the  son  of  a 
porter.  Horace  was  the  son  of  a  shop  keeper.  Shaks- 
peare  was  the  son  of  a  wood  stapler.  .  Milton  was  the 
son  of  a  money  scrivener.  Robert  Burns  was  a  plow- 
man in  Ayrshire.  Mohammed,  called  the  prophet,  a 
driver  of  asses.  Madame  Barnadotte  was  a  washer- 
woman of  Paris.  Napoleon  was  of  an  obscure  family 
of  Corsica.  John  Jacob  Astor  once  sold  apples  on  the 
streets  of  New  York.  Catherine,  Empress  of  Russia, 
was  a  camp-grisette.  Cincinnatus  was  plowing  in  his 
vineyard  when  the  dictatorship  of  Rome  was  offered 
him.  Elihu  Burritt  was  a  blacksmith.  Daniel  Web- 
ster, while  young,  worked  on  a  farm.  Henry  Clay  was 
"the  mill-boy  of  the  Slashes." 

The  young  man  who  thinks  of  taking  a  short  cut  to 
fortune,  should  deliberately  write  down  the  names  of  a 
dozen  of  our  richest  men,  and  he  will  find  that  the 
largest  part  of  the  wealth  of  the  Astors  and  Browns 
and  Stewarts  and  Vanderbilts  was  accumulated  after 
they  had  passed  their  fiftieth  year. 

"Without  fame  or  fortune  at  forty,  without  fame  or 
fortune  always,"  is  the  sentiment  of  many,  oftener 
expressed  by  the  saying,  that  if  a  man  is  not  rich  at 
forty,  he  never  will  be.  It  was  after  forty  that  Sir 
Walter  Scott  became  the  great  unknown  ;  it  was  after 
forty  that  Palmerston  was  found  to  be  England's  great- 
est prime  minister  of  the  century.  At  that  age,  many 
who  now  appear  prominently  in  our  political  history 
were  obscure  citizens.  Howe,  of  the  sewing-machine, 
was  utterly  destitute  at  thirty-five,  a  millionaire  six 
years  later. 

A  long  time  ago,  a  little  boy,  twelve  years  old,  on 


122 


POOR  BOYS. 


his  road  to  Vermont,  stopped  at  a  country  tavern,  and 
paid  for  his  lodging  and  breakfast  by  sawing  wood, 
instead  of  asking  for  it  as  a  gift.  Fifty  years  later, 
the  same  boy  passed  that  same  little  inn  as  George 
Peabody,  the  banker,  whose  name  is  the  synonym  of 
magnificent  charities — the  honored  of  two  hemispheres. 
He  was  born  poor  in  Danvers,  Massachusetts,  and  bv 
beginning  right  and  pursuing  a  course  of  strict  honesty, 
integrity,  industry,  activity  and  Christian  benevolence, 
he  has  been  able  to  amass  great  wealth.  Some  years 
since  he  made  a  generous  gift  to  his  native  town;  and 
also  remembered  the  city  of  Baltimore,  Maryland,  where 
he  long  resided,  by  a  liberal  donation.  For  nearly 
twenty-five  years,  having  done  business  in  London,  and 
being  past  sixty  years  old,  he  had  given  £150,000 — 
nearly  $750,000 — to  be  devoted  to  the  benefit  of  the 
poor  of  that  city. 

When  Cornelius  Vanderbilt  was  a  young  man,  his 
mother  gave  him  fifty  dollars  of  her  savings  to  buy  a 
small  sail-boat,  and  he  engaged  in  the  business  of  trans- 
porting market-gardening  from  Staten  Island  to  New 
York  city.  When  the  wind  was  not  favorable  he  would 
work  his  way  over  the  shoals  by  pushing  the  boat  along 
by  poles,  putting  his  own  shoulder  to  the  pole,  and  was 
very  sure  to  get  his  freight  in  market  in  season.  This 
energy  gave  him  always  a  command  of  full  freights, 
and  he  accumulated  money.  After  awhile  he  began  to 
build  and  run  steamboats,  and  he  is  now  reputed  to  be 
worth  more  than  nineteen  millions  of  dollars,  after 
making  the  government  a  present,  as  a  free  gift,  of  a 
steamship  that  cost  $8oo3ooo. 


roon  boys. 


123 


Mr.  Tobin,  the  President  of  the  Hudson  River  Rail- 
road Company,  is  a  millionaire.  He  is  not  yet  forty 
years  of  age.  He  began  life  as  a  steamboat  clerk  with 
Commodore  Vanderbilt.  When  he  took  his  position 
the  Commodore  gave  him  two  orders:  first,  to  collect 
fare  of  everybody  and  have  no  dead-heads  on  the  boat; 
second,  to  start  the  boat  on  time,  and  wait  for  nobody. 
The  Commodore  then  lived  at  Staten  Island.  Tobin 
obeyed  his  orders  so  literally  that  he  collected  fare  of 
the  Commodore  on  the  first  evening,  and  left  him  on 
the  wharf  the  next  morning,  as  the  boat  could  not 
wait.  The  Commodore  was  coming  down  the  wharf 
leisurely,  and  supposed,  of  course,  the  boat  would  wait 
for  him.  He  proved  a  *man  after  Vanderbilt's  own 
heart.  He  became  his  confidential  clerk  and  broker, 
bought  and  sold  Harlem  and  made  for  himself  a  fortune. 

Stephen  Girard  left  his  native  country  at  the  age  of 
ten  or  twelve  years,  as  a  cabin  boy  on  a  vessel.  He 
came  to  New  York  in  that  capacity.  His  deportment 
was  distinguished  by  such  fidelity,  industry  and  tem- 
perance, that  he  won  the  attachment  and  confidence  of 
his  master,  who  generally  bestowed  on  him  the  appel- 
lation of  "my  Stephen.'7  When  his  master  gave  up 
business  he  promoted  Girard  to  the  command  of  a 
small  vessel.  Girard  was  a  self-taught  man,  and  the 
world  was  his  school.  It  was  a  favorite  theme  with 
him,  when  he  afterwards  grew  rich,  to  relate  that  he 
commenced  life  with  a  sixpence,  and  to  insist  that  a 
man's  best  capital  was  his  industry.  All  professions 
and  all  occupations,  which  afforded  a  just  reward  for 


124 


POOR  BOYS. 


labor,  were  alike  honorable  in  his  estimation.  He  was 
never  too  proud  to  work. 

In  the  time  of  the  fever,  in  1793,  when  consternation 
had  seized  the  whole  population  of  the  city  of  Philadel- 
phia, Stephen  Girard,  then  a  rich  merchant,  offered  his 
services  as  a  nurse  in  the  hospital.  His  offers  were 
accepted,  and  in  the  performance  of  the  most  loath- 
some duties,  he  walked  unharmed  in  the  midst  of  the 
pestilence.  He  used  to  say  to  his  friends,  "  When  you 
are  sick,  if  anything  ails  you,  do  not  go  to  a  doctor, 
but  come  to  me,  I  will  cure  you." 

Far  back  in  the  teens  of  the  present  century,  a  young 
man  asked  for  employment  in  the  Springfield  armory; 
but  he  was  poor  and  modest,*  and  had  no  friends,  so  he 
went  away  without  it;  but,  feeling  the  man  within  him, 
he  sought  work  until  he  found  it.  An  age  later,  he 
visited  that  armory  a  second  time,  not  as  a  common 
day-laborer,  but  as  the  ablest  Speaker  of  the  House  of 
Representatives,  and  for  many  years  Governor  of 
Massachusetts. 

Of  P.  R.  Spencer,  the  author  of  the  Spencerian  sys- 
tem of  penmanship,  it  is  said  that,  "  the  smooth  sand 
beach  of  Lake  Erie  constituted  the  foolscap  in  and  on 
which,  for  want  of  other  material,  he  perfected  essen- 
tially the  system  which  meets  such  general  favor  in  our 
common  and  commercial  schools,  and  in  our  business 
and  literary  circles."  When  we  reflect  upon  the  im- 
mense popularity  of  his  system,  which,  passing  beyond 
the  limits  of  our  own  country,  has  been  re-engraved  in 
England,  is  used  in  the  model  counting-rooms  of  Lon- 


POOR  BOYS. 


125 


don,  Liverpool  and  Manchester,  and  is  also  the  adopted 
system  of  the  English  Department  of  the  University  of 
Zurich,  in  Switzerland,  we  must  accord  to  its  honored 
author  chaste  and  elevated  powers  of  conception,  with 
bold  and  tireless  grasp,  of  just  apprehension,  and  agree 
that  the  barefooted  boy  of  fifty  years  ago  must  have 
been  thinking,  and  thinking  aright,  and  thinking  with 
no  ordinary  mind,  when  he  gave  to  his  coinings  in  the 
sands  such  vitality  of  science,  that  the  world  has 
adopted  and  embalmed  them  as  the  most  beautiful 
imagery  of  "  the  art." 

Masons  and  bricklayers  can  boast  of  Ben  Jonson, 
who  worked  at  the  building  of  Lincoln's  Inn  with  a 
trowel  in  his  hand  and  a  book  in  his  pocket ;  Edw^ards 
and  Telford,  the  engineers;  Hugh  Miller,  the  geologist, 
and  Allen  Cunningham,  the  writer  and  sculptor.  John 
Hunter,  the  physiologist,  Ronevey  and  Opie,  the  paint- 
ers, Professor  Lee,  the  orientalist,  and  John  Gibbons, 
the  sculptor,  were  carpenters.  Wilson,  the  ornitholo- 
gist. Dr.  Livingstone,  the  missionary  traveler,  and 
Tannahill,  the  poet,  were  weavers.  Samuel  Drew,  the 
essayist,  and  Gifford,  the  editor  of  the  "  Quarterly 
Review,"  were  shoemakers.  Admiral  Hobson,  one  of 
the  gallantest  of  British  seaman,  was  originally  a  tailor. 

It  is  not  good  for  human  nature  to  have  the  road  of 
life  made  too  easy.  Better  to  be  under  the  necessity 
of  working  hard  and  faring  meanly,  than  to  have  every- 
thing done  ready  to  our  hand,  and  a  pillow  of  down  to 
repose  upon.  Indeed,  to  start  in  life  with  comparatively 
small  means  seems  so  necessary  as  a  stimulus  to  work, 
that  it  may  almost  be  set  down  as  one  of  the  essential 


126 


OCCUPATION. 


conditions  to  success  in  life.  Hence,  an  eminent  judge, 
when  asked  what  contributed  most  to  success  at  the 
bar,  replied,  "  Some  succeed  by  great  talent,  some  by 
high  connections,  some  by  miracle,  but  the  majority  by 
commencing  without  a  shilling."  So  it  is  a  common 
saying  that  the  men  who  are  most  successful  in  business 
are  those  who  begin  the  world  in  their  shirt-sleeves; 
whereas  those  who  begin  with  fortunes  generally  lose 
them.  Necessity  is  always  the  first  stimulus  to  industry, 
and  those  who  conduct  it  with  prudence,  perseverance 
and  energy  will  rarely  fail.  Viewed  in  this  light,  the 
necessity  of  labor  is  not  a  chastisement,  but  a  blessing — 
the  very  root  and  spring  of  all  that  we  call  progress  in 
individuals,  and  civilization  in  nations.  It  may,  indeed, 
be  questioned  whether  a  heavier  curse  could  be  imposed 
on  man  than  the  complete  gratification  of  all  his  wishes 
without  effort  on  his  part,  leaving  nothing  for  his  hopes, 
desires  or  struggles.  The  feeling  that  life  is  destitute 
of  any  jnotive  or  necessity  for  action,  must  be,  of  all 
others,  the  most  distressing  and  the  most  insupportable 
to  a  rational  being. 

The  man  who  has  no  occupation  is  in  a  bad  plight. 
If  he  is  poor,  want  is  ever  and  anon,  pinching  him;  if 
he  is  rich,  ennui  is  a  more  relentless  tormentor  than 
want.    An  unoccupied  man  cannot  be  happy — nor  can 


OCCUPATION. 


127 


one  who  is  improperly  occupied.  We  have  swarms  of 
idlers  among  us,  the  worst  of  whom  are  gentlemen 
idlers;  that  is,  men  who  pursue  no  useful  occupation, 
and  sponge  their  way,  often  enjoying  the  luxuries  of 
life,  living  upon  the  «hard  earnings  of  others — the  can- 
cers of  community — pseudo  patterns  of  bipeds  —  leeches 
on  the  body  politic. 

In  this  widespread  and  expanding  country,  no  one 
need  be  without  some  useful  occupation.  All  trade? 
and  professions  are  open,  from  the  honest  hod  carrier, 
up  to  the  highest  place  in  the  agricultural,  commercial 
and  mechanical  departments,  and  from  the  humblest, 
but  not  least  useful  teacher  of  A.  B.  C,  up  to  the 
pinnacle  of  professional  fame.  Those  occupations  that 
require  manual  labor,  are  the  surest,  most  healthy,  and 
most  independent. 

A  man  or  woman  with  no  business,  nothing  to  do,  is 
an  absolute  pest  to  society.  They  are  thieves,  stealing 
that  which  is  not  theirs;  beggars,  eating  that  which 
they  have  not  earned;  drones,  wasting  the  fruits  of 
others'  industry;  leeches,  sucking  the  blood  of  others; 
evil-doers,  setting  an  example  of  idleness  and  dishonest 
living;  hypocrites,  shining  in  stolen  and  false  colors; 
vampires,  eating  out  the  life  of  the  community.  Frown 
upon  them,  O  youth.  Learn  in  your  heart  to  despise 
their  course  of  life. 

Many  of  our  most  interesting  youth  waste  a  great 
portion  of  their  early  life  in  fruitless  endeavors  at  noth- 
ing. They  have  no  trade,  no  profession,  no  object 
before  them,  nothing  to  do ;  and  yet  have  a  great  desire 
to  do  something,  and  something  worthy  of  themselves. 


» 


us 


OCCUPATION. 


They  try  this  and  liiat,  and  the  other;  offer  themselves 
to  do  anything  and  everything,  and  yet  know  how  to 
do  nothing.  Educate  themselves,  they  cannot,  for  they 
know  not  what  they  should  do  it  for.  They  waste 
their  time,  energies,  and  little  earnings  in  endless 
changes  and  wanderings.  They  have  not  the  stimulus 
of  a  fixed  object  to  fasten  their  attention  and  awaken 
their  energies;  not  a  known  prize  to  win.  They  wish 
for  good  things,  but  have  no  way  to  attain  them ;  desire 
to  be  useful,  but  little  means  for  being  so.  They  lay 
plans,  invent  schemes,  form  theories,  build  castles,  but 
never  stop  to  execute  and  realize  them.  Poor  creatures ! 
All  that  ails  them  is  the  want  of  an  object  —  a  single 
object.  They  look  at  a  hundred,  and  see  nothing.  If 
they  should  look  steadily  at  one,  they  would  see  it  dis- 
tinctly. They  grasp  at  random  at  a  hundred  things 
and  catch  nothing.  It  is  like  shooting  among  a  scat- 
tered flock  of  pigeons.  The  chances  are  doubtful. 
This  will  never  do  —  no,  never.  Success,  respectability, 
and  happiness  are  found  in  a  permanent  business.  An 
early  choice  of  some  business,  devotion  to  it,  and  prepa- 
ration for  it,  should  be  made  by  every  youth. 

When  the  two  objects,  business  and  character,  as  the 
great  end  of  life,  are  fairly  before  a  youth,  what  then? 
Why,  he  must  attain  those  objects.  Will  wishes  and 
prayers  bring  them  into  his  hands  ?  By  no  means.  He 
must  work  as  well  as  wish,  labor  as  well  as  pray.  His 
hand  must  be  as  stout  as  his  heart,  his  arm  as  strong  as 
his  head.  Purpose  must  be  followed  by  action.  The 
choosing  of  an  occupation,  however,  is  not  a  small 
thing;  great  mistakes  are  made  and  often  the  most 


* 


OCCUPATION. 


worthy  pursuits  are  left.  The  young  man  who  leaves 
the  farm-field  for  the  merchant's  desk,  or  the  lawyer's 
or  doctor's  office,  thinking  to  dignify  or  ennoble  his  toil, 
makes  a  sad  mistake.  He  passes  by  that  step  from 
independence  to  vassalage.  Fie  barters  a  natural  for 
an  artificial  pursuit;  and  he  must  be  the  slave  of  the 
caprice  of  customers,  and  the  chicane  of  trade,  either 
to  support  himself  or  to  acquire  a  fortune.  The  more 
artificial  a  man's  pursuit,  the  more  debasing  is  it, 
morally  and  physically.  To  test  it,  contrast  the  mer- 
chant's clerk  with  the  plow-bpy.  The  former  may  have 
the  most  exterior  polish,  but  the  latter,  under  his  rough 
outside,  possesses  the  true  stamina.  He  is  the  freer, 
franker,  happier,  and  nobler  man.  Would  that  young 
men  might  judge  of  the  dignity  of  labor  by  its  useful- 
ness, rather  than  by  the  superficial  glosses  it  wears. 
Therefore,  we  never  see  a  man's  nobility  in  his  kid 
gloves  and  toilet  adornments,  but  in  that  sinewy  arm, 
whose  outlines,  browned  by  the  sun,  betoken  a  hardy, 
honest  toil,  under  whose  farmer's  or  mechanic's  vest  a 
kingliest  heart  may  beat. 

Above  all,  the  notion  that  the  " three  black  graces," 
Law,  Medicine  and  Ministry,  must  be  worshiped  by 
the  candidate  for  respectability  and  honor,  has  done 
incalculable  damage  to  society.  It  has  spoiled  many  a 
good  carpenter,  done  injustice  to  the  sledge  and  the 
anvil,  cheated  the  goose  and  the  shears  out  of  their 
rights,  and  committed  fraud  on  the  corn  and  the  potato 
field.  Thousands  have  died  of  broken  hearts  in  these 
professions — thousands  who  might  have  been  happy  at 
the  plow,  or  opulent  behind  the  counter;  thousands, 
9 


130 


OCCUPATION. 


dispirited  and  hopeless,  look  upon  the  healthful  and 
independent  calling  of  the  farmer  with  envy  and 
chagrin;  and  thousands  more,  by  a  worse  fate  still,  are 
reduced  to  necessities  which  degrade  them  in  their  own 
estimation,  rendering  the  most  brilliant  success,  but  a 
wretched  compensation  for  the  humiliation  with  which 
it  is  accompanied,  and  compelling  them  to  grind  out  of 
the  miseries  of  their  fellow  men  the  livelihood  which  is 
denied  to  their  legitimate  exertions.  The  result  of  all 
this  is,  that  the  world  is  full  of  men  who,  disgusted 
with  their  vocations,  getting  their  living  by  their  weak- 
ness instead  of  by  their  strength,  are  doomed  to  hope- 
less inferiority.  "If  you  choose  to  represent  the  various 
parts  in  life,"  says  Sydney  Smith,  aby  holes  in  a  table 
of  different  shapes — some  circular,  some  triangular, 
some  square,  some  oblong — and  the  persons  acting 
these  parts  by  bits  of  wood  of  similar  shapes,  we  shall 
generally  find  that  the  triangular  person  has  got  into 
the  square  hole,  the  oblong  into  the  triangular,  while 
the  square  person  has  squeezed  himself  into  the  round 
hole.'"  A  French  writer  on  agriculture  observes  that 
it  is  impossible  profitably  to  improve  land  by  trying 
forcibly  to  change  its  natural  character — as  by  bringing 
sand  to  clay,  or  clay  to  sand.  The  only  true  method 
is  to  adapt  the  cultivation  to  the  nature  of  the  soil.  So 
with  the  moral  or  intellectual  qualities.  Exhortation, 
self-determination  may  do  much  to  stimulate  and  prick 
a  man  on  in  a  wrong  career  against  his  natural  bent; 
but,  when  the  crisis  comes,  this  artificial  character  thus 
laboriously  induced  will  break  down,  Tailing  at  the  very 
time  when  it  is  most  wanted. 


OCCUPATION. 


131 


No  need  of  spurs  to  the  little  Handel  or  the  boy 
Bach  to  study  music,  when  one  steals  midnight  inter- 
views with  a  smuggled  clavichord  in  a  secret  attic,  and 
the  other  copies  whole  books  of  studies  by  moonlight, 
for  want  of  a  candle,  churlishly  denied.  No  need  of 
whips  to  the  boy-painter,  West,  when  he  begins  in  a 
garret,  and  plunders  the  family  cat  for  bristles  to  make 
his  brushes.  On  the  other  hand,  to  spend  years  at  col- 
lege, at  the  work-bench,  or  in  a  store,  and  then  find  that 
the  calling  is  a  wrong  one,  is  disheartening  to  all  but 
men  of  the  toughest  fibre.  The  discovery  shipwrecks 
the  feeble,  and  plunges  ordinary  minds  into  despair. 
Doubly  trying  is  this  discovery  when  one  feels  that  the 
mistake  was  made  in  defiance  of  friendly  advice,  or  to 
gratify  a  freak  of  fancy  or  an  idle  whim.  The  sorrows 
that  come  upon  us  by  the  will  of  God,  or  through  the 
mistakes  of  our  parents,  we  can  submit  to  with  com- 
parative resignation;  but  the  sorrows  which  we  have 
wrought  by  our  own  hand,  the  pitfalls  into  which  we 
have  fallen  by  obstinately  going  on  our  own  way,  these 
are  the  sore  places  of  memory  which  no  tim  and  no 
patience  can  salve  over. 

Be  what  nature  intended  you  for,  and  you  will  suc- 
ceed; be  anything  else,  and  you  will  be  ten  thousand 
times  worse  than  nothing. 

It  is  an  uncontro verted  truth,  that  no  man  ever  made 
an  ill-figure  who  understood  his  own  talents,  nor  a  good 
one  who  mistook  them.  Let  no  young  man  of  industry 
and  perfect  honesty  despair  because  his  profession  or 
calling  is  crowded.  Let  him  always  remember  that 
there  is  room  enough  at  the  top,  and  that  the  question 


132 


EMPLOYMENT. 


whether  he  is  ever  to  reach  the  top,  or  rise  above  the 
crowd  at  the  base  of  the  pyramid,  will  be  decided  by 
the  way  in  which  he  improves  the  first  ten  years  of  his 
active  life  in  securing  to  himself  a  thorough  knowledge 
of  his  profession,  and  a  sound  moral  and  intellectual 
culture. 

I  take  it  that  men  and  women  were  made  for  busi- 
ness, for  activity,  for  employment.  Activity  is  the  life 
of  us  all.  To  do  and  to  bear  is  the  duty  of  life.  We 
know  that  employment  makes  the  man  in  a  very  great 
measure.  A  man  with  no  employment,  nothing  to  do, 
is  scarcely  a  man.  The  secret  of  making  men  is  to 
put  them  to  work,  and  keep  them  at  it.  It  is  not  study, 
not  instruction,  not  careful  moral  training,  not  good 
parents,  not  good  society  that  makes  men.  These  are 
means;  but  back  of  these  lies  the  grand  molding  influ- 
uence  of  men's  life.  It  is  employment.  A  man's  busi- 
ness does  more  to  make  him  than  every  thing  else.  It 
hardens  his  muscles,  strengthens  his  body,  quickens  his 
blood,  sharpens  his  mind,  corrects  his  judgment,  wakes 
up  his  inventive  genius,  puts  his  wits  to  work,  starts 
him  on  the  race  of  life,  arouses  his  ambition,  makes  him 
feel  that  he  is  a  man  and  must  fill  a  man's  shoes,  do  a 
man's  work,  bear  a  man's  part  in  life,  and  show  himself 
a  man  in  that  part.     No  man  feels  himself  a  man  who 


EMPLOYMENT. 


133 


is  not  doing  a  man's  business.  A  man  without  emplo}^- 
ment  is  not  a  man.  He  does  not  prove  by  his  works 
that  he  is  a  man.  He  cannot  act  a  man's  part.  A 
hundred  and  fifty  pounds  of  bone  and  muscle  is  not  a 
man.  A  good  cranium  full  of  brains  is  not  a  man. 
The  bone  and  muscle  and  brain  must  know  how  to  act 
a  man's  part,  do  a  man's  work,  think  a  man's  thoughts, 
mark  out  a  man's  path,  and  bear  a  man's  weight  of 
character  and  duty  before  they  constitute  a  man.  A 
man  is  body  and  soul  in  action.  A- statue,  if  well 
dressed,  may  appear  to  be  a  man;  so  may  a  human 
being.  But  to  be  a  man,  and  appear  to  be,  are  two 
very  different  things.  Human  beings  grovj,  men  are 
made.  The  being  that  grows  to  the  stature  of  a  man 
is  not  a  man  till  he  is  made  one.  The  grand  instru- 
mentality of  man-making  is  employment.  The  world 
has  long  since  learned  that  men  cannot  be  made  with- 
out employment.  Hence  it  sets  its  boys  to  work;  gives 
them  trades,  callings,  professions;  puts  the  instruments 
of  man-making  into  their  hands  and  tells  them  to  work 
out  their  manhood.  And  the  most  of  them  do  it  some- 
how, not  always  very  well.  The  men  who  fail  to  make 
themselves  a  respectable  manhood  are  the  bo}'s  who  are 
put  to  no  business,  the  young  men  who  have  nothing  to 
do;  the  male  beings  that  have  no  employment.  We 
have  them  about  us;  walking  nuisances;  pestilential 
gas-bags ;  fetid  air-bubbles,  who  burst  and  are  gone. 
Our  men  of  wealth  and  character,  of  worth  and  power, 
have  been  early  bound  to  some  useful  employment. 
Many  of  them  were  unfortunate  orphan  boys,  whom 
want  compelled  to  work  for  bread — the  children  of 


134 


TliUE  GREATNESS. 


penury  and  lowly  birth.  In  their  early  boyhood  they 
buckled  on  the  armor  of  labor,  took  upon  their  little 
shoulders  heavy  burdens,  assumed  responsibilities,  met 
fierce  circumstances,  contended  with  sharp  opposition,, 
chose  the  ruggedest  paths  of  employment  because  they 
yielded  the  best  remuneration,  and  braved  the  storms 
of  toil  till  they  won  great  victories  for  themselves  and 
stood  before  the  world  in  the  beauty  and  majesty  of 
noble  manhood.  This  is  the  way  men  are  made. 
There  is  no  other  way.  Their  powers  are  developed 
in  the  field  of  employment. 

Men  are  not  born;  they  are  made.  Genius,  worth,, 
power  of  mind  are  more  made  than  born.  Genius  born 
may  grovel  in  the  dust;  genius  made  will  mount  to  the 
skies.  Our  great  and  good  men  that  stand  along  the 
paths  of  history  bright  and  shining  lights  are  witnesses 
of  these  truths.  They  stand  there  as  everlasting  pleaders 
for  employment. 


The  forbearing  use  of  power  is  a  sure  attribute  of 
true  greatness.  Indeed,  we  may  say  that  power,  phy- 
sical, moral,  purely  social  or  political,  is  one  of  the 
touchstones  of  genuine  greatness. 

The  power  which  the  husband  has  over  his  wife,  in 
which  we  must  include  the  impunity  with  which  he 
may  be  unkind  to  her;  the  father  over  his  children;  the 


TRUE  GREATNESS. 


old  over  the  young,  and  the  young  over  the  aged; 
the  strong  over  the  weak;  the  officer  over  his  men;  the 
master  over  his  hands;  the  magistrate  over  the  citizens; 
the  employer  over  the  employed  ;  the  rich  over  the 
poor ;  the  educated  over  the  unlettered ;  the  experienced 
over  the  confiding.  The  forbearing  and  inoffensive  use 
of  all  this  power  or  authority,  or  a  total  abstinence 
from  it,  where  the  case  admits  it,  will  show  the  true 
greatness  in  a  plain  light. 

u  You  are  a  plebian,"  said  a  patrician  to  Cicero.  "  I 
am  a  plebian,"  said  the  eloquent  Roman;  "  the  nobility 
of  my  family  begins  with  me;  that  of  yours  will  end 
with  you.  I  hold  no  man  deserves  to  be  crowned  with 
honor  whose  life  is  a  failure;  and  he  who  lives  only  to 
eat  and  drink  and  accumulate  money,  is  a  failure.  The 
world  is  no  better  for  his  living  in  it.  He  never  wiped 
a  tear  from  a  sad  face — never  kindled  a  fire  upon  a 
frozen  hearth.  I  repeat  with  emphasis,  he  is  a  failure. 
There  is  no  flesh  in  his  heart;  he  worships  no  God  but 
gold."    These  were  the  words  of  a  heathen. 

Man  is  to  be  rated,  not  by  his  hoards  of  gold,  not  by 
the  simple  or  temporary  influence  he  may  for  a  time 
exert;  but  by  his  unexceptionable  principles  relative 
both  to  character  and  religion.  Strike  out  these,  and 
what  is  he?  A  brute  without  a  virtue — a  savage  with- 
out a  sympathy !  Take  them  away  and  his  manshtp  is 
gone;  he  no  longer  lives  in  the  image  of  his  Maker! 
A  cloud  of  sin  hangs  darkly  on  his  brow;  there  is  ever 
a  tempest  on  his  countenance,  the  lightning  in  his 
glance,  the  thunder  in  words,  and  the  rain  and  whirl- 
wind in  the  breathing  of  his  angry  soul.    No  smile 


136 


TRUE  GREATNESS. 


gladdens  his  lip  to  tell  that  love  is  playing  there;  no 
sympathizing  glow  illuminates  his  cheek.  Every  word 
burns  with  malice,  and  that  voice — the  mystic  gift  of 
heaven  —  grates  as  harshly  on  the  timid  ear  as  rush- 
ing thunders  beating  amid  falling  cliffs  and  tumbling 
cataracts. 

That  which  especially  distinguishes  a  high  order  of 
man  from  a  low  order  of  man — that  which  constitutes 
human  goodness,  human  greatness,  human  nobleness — 
is  surely  not  the  degree  of  enlightenment  with  which 
men  pursue  their  own  advantage ;  but  it  is  self-forget- 
fulness;  it  is  self-sacrifice;  it  is  the  disregard  of  per- 
sonal pleasure,  personal  indulgence,  personal  advantage, 
remote  or  present,  because  some  other  line  of  conduct 
is  more  right. 

The  truest  greatness  is  that  which  is  unseen,  unknown. 
Public  martyrdom  of  every  shade  has  a  certain  eclat 
and  popularity  connected  with  it  that  will  often  bear 
men  up  to  endure  with  courage  its  trials;  but  those 
who  suffer  alone,  without  sympathy,  for  truth  or  prin- 
ciple, those  who,  unnoticed  by  men,  maintain  their  post, 
and  in  obscurity,  and  amid  discouragement,  patiently 
fulfill  their  trust,  these  are  the  real  heroes  of  the  age, 
and  the  suffering  they  bear  is  true  greatness. 

Let  man  go  abroad  with  just  principles,  and  what  is 
he  ?  An  exhaustless  fountain  in  a  vast  desert ;  a  glorious 
sun  shining  ever,  dispelling  every  vestige  of  darkness. 
There  is  love  animating  his  heart,  sympathy  breathing 
in  every  tone.  Tears  of  pity — dew  drops  of  the  soul  — 
gather  in  his  eye  and  gush  impetuously  down  his  cheek. 
A  good  man  is  abroad  and  the  world  knows  and  feels 


IDLENESS. 


137 


it.  Beneath  his  smiles  lurks  no  degrading  passions. 
Within  his  heart  there  slumbers  no  guile.  He  is  not 
exalted  in  moral  pride,  not  elevated  in  his  own  views; 
but  honest,  moral  and  virtuous  before  the  world.  He 
stands  throned  on  truth;  his  fortress  is  wisdom  and  his 
dominion  is  the  vast  and  limitless  world.  Always 
upright,  kind,  and  sympathizing;  always  attached  to 
just  principles  and  actuated  by  the  same,  governed  by 
the  highest  motives  in  doing  good. 

Many  moralists  have  remarked  that  pride  has,  or 
all  human  vices,  the  widest  dominion,  appears  in  the 
greatest  multiplicity  of  forms,  and  lies  hid  under  the 
greatest  variety  of  disguises — of  which  disguises,  like 
the  moon's  veils  of  brightness,  are  both  its  luster  and 
its  shade,  and  betray  it  to  others  though  they  hide  it 
from  themselves. 

It  is  not  my  intention  to  degrade  pride  from  its  pre- 
eminence, yet  I  know  not  whether  idleness  may  not 
maintain  a  very  doubtful  and  obstinate  position.  Idle- 
ness predominates  in  many  lives  where  it  is  not  sus- 
pected, for,  being  a  vice  which  terminates  in  itself,  it 
may  be  enjoyed  without  injury  to  others,  and  therefore 
is  not  watched  like  fraud,  which  endangers  property, 
or  like  pride,  which  naturally  seeks  its  gratification  in 
other's  inferiority. 


138 


IDLENESS. 


Idleness  is  a  silent  and  peaceful  quality  that  neither 
raises  envy  by  ostentation  nor  hatred  by  opposition. 
There  are  some  that  profess  idleness  in  its  full  dignity; 
they  boast  because  they  do  nothing,  and  thank  their 
stars  that  they  have  nothing  to  do — who  sleep  every 
night  until  they  cannot  sleep  any  longer,  and  then  rise 
only  that  exercise  may  enable  them  to  sleep  again; 
who  prolong  the  reign  of  darkness  by  double  curtains, 
and  never  see  the  sun  but  to  tell  him  how  they  hate 
his  beams;  whose  whole  labor  is  to  vary  the  posture 
of  indulgence,  and  whose  day  differs  from  their  night 
but  as  a  couch  or  a  chair  differs  from  a  bed.  These 
are  the  true  and  open  votaries  of  idleness,  who  exist 
in  a  state  of  unruffled  stupefied  laziness,  forgetting 
and  forgotten,  who  have  long  ceased  to  live,  and  at 
whose  death  the  survivors  can  only  say  that  they 
have  ceased  to  breathe.  Such  a  person  is  an  annoy- 
ance—  he  is  of  no  use  to  anybody  —  he  is  an  intruder 
in  the  busy  thoroughfare  of  every-day  life — he  is  of 
no  advantage;  he  annoys  busy  men — he  makes  them 
unhappy;  he  may  have  an  income  to  support  his  idle- 
ness, or  he  may  sponge  on  his  good-natured  friends, 
but  in  either  case  he  is  despised;  he  is  a  criminal  prod- 
igal, and  a  prolific  author  of  want  and  shame;  he  is  a 
confused  work-shop  for  the  devil  to  tinker  in,  and  no 
good  can  ever  be  expected  from  him;  in  short,  he  is  a 
nuisance  in  the  world,  and  needs  abatement  for  the 
public  good.  Idleness  is  the  bane  of  body  and  mind, 
the  nurse  of  naughtiness,  the  chief  author  of  all  mis- 
chief, one  of  seven  deadly  sins — the  cushion  upon 
which  the  devil  reposes,  and  a  great  cause  not  only  of 


/ 


IDLENESS.  139 

melancholy  but  of  many  other  diseases,  for  the  mind 
is  naturally  active,  and  if  it  be  not  occupied  about 
some  honest  business,  it  rushes  into  mischief  or  sinks 
into  melancholy.  Of  all  contemptible  things,  there  is 
nothing  half  so  wretched  as  a  lazy  man.  The  Turks 
say  the  devil  tempts  everybody,  but  the  idle  man 
tempts  the  devil.  When  we  notice  that  a  man  can  be 
a  professional  loafer,  a  successful  idler,  with  less  capital, 
less  brains,  than  are  required  to  succeed  in  any  other 
profession,  we  cannot  blame  him  so  much  after  all,  for 
those  are  things  that  the  idler  is  generally  destitute  of; 
and  we  can  notice  it  as  an  actual  fact,  that  they  suc- 
ceed in  their  business,  and  it  costs  them  no  energy,  no 
brains,  no  character,  no  nothing.  They  are  dead  beats ; 
they  should  not  be  classed  among  the  living — they  are 
a  sort  of  dead  men  that  cannot  be  buried. 

Idleness  is  an  ingredient  in  the  upper  current,  which 
was  scarcely  known,  and  never  countenanced,  in  the 
good  old  linsey  woolsey,  tow  and  linen,  mush  and  milk, 
pork  and  potato  times  of  the  pilgrim  fathers,  and 
revolutionary  patriots.  We  now  have  those  among 
us,  who  would  rather  go  hungry  and  be  clad  in  rags^ 
than  to  work.  We  also  have  a  numerous  train  of 
gentlemen  idlers,  who  pass  down  the  stream  of  life 
at  the  expense  of  their  fellow  passengers.  They  live 
well,  and  dress  well,  as  long  as  possible,  by  borrowing 
and  sponging,  and  then  take  to  gambling,  swindling, 
stealing,  robbing;  and  often  pass  on  for  years,  before 
justice  overtakes  them.  So  long  as  these  persons  can 
keep  up  fashionable  appearances,  and  elude  the  police,, 
they  are  received  into  the  company  of  the  upper  ten 


140 


IDLENESS. 


thousand.  Many  an  idle  knave,  by  means  of  a  fine 
coat,  a  lily  hand,  and  a  graceful  bow,  has  been  received 
into  the  polite  circles  of  society  with  eclat,  and  walked, 
rough-shod,  over  a  worthy  young  mechanic  or  farmer, 
who  had  too  much  good  sense  to  make  a  dash,  or  imi- 
tate the  monkey  shines  of  an  itinerant  dandy.  A  fine 
dress,  in  the  eyes  of  some,  covers  more  sins  than 
charity. 

If  thus  the  young  man  wishes  to  be  nobody,  his  way 
is  easy.  He  need  only  go  to  the  drinking  saloon  to 
spend  his  leisure  time;  he  need  not  drink  much  at 
first,  only  a  little  beer,  or  some  other  drink;  in  the 
meantime  play  dominoes,  checkers,  or  something  else, 
to  kill  time,  so  that  he  is  sure  not  to  read  any  useful 
books.  If  he  reads  at  all,  let  it  be  some  of  the  dime 
novels  of  the  day.  Thus  go  on,  keep  his  stomach  full 
and  his  head  empty,  and  he  will  soon  graduate  a 
nobody,  unless  (as  it  is  quite  likely)  he  should  turn 
out  a  drunkard  or  a  professional  gambler,  which  is 
worse  than  a  nobody. 

Young  man,  if  you  do  not  wish  to  be  a  nobody,  01 
somebody  much  worse  than  nobody,  then  guard  yom 
youth.  A  lazy  youth  will  be  a  lazy  man,  just  as  sure 
as  a  crooked  sapling  makes  a  crooked  tree.  Who  ever 
saw  a  youth  grow  up  in  idleness  that  did  not  make  a 
lazy,  shiftless  vagabond  when  he  was  old  enough  to  be 
a  man,  though  he  was  not  a  man  by  character.  The 
great  mass  of  thieves,  paupers  and  criminals  have 
come  to  what  they  are  by  being  brought  up  to  do 
nothing  useful.  Laziness  grows  on  people;  it  begins 
in  cob- web  and  ends  in  iron  chains.    If  you  will  be 


IDLENESS. 


141 


nothing,  just  wait  to  be  somebody.  That  man  that 
waits  for  an  opportunity  to  do  much  at  once,  may 
breathe  out  his  life  in  idle  wishes,  and  finally  regret 
his  useless  intentions  and  barren  zeal — a  young  man 
idle,  an  old  man  needy.  Idleness  travels  very  leisurely 
along,  and  poverty  soon  overtakes  her — to  be  idle  is 
to  be  poor.  It  is  said  that  pride  and  poverty  are 
inconsistent  companions,  but  when  idleness  unites  them 
the  depth  of  wretchedness  is  complete.  Leisure  is. 
sweet  to  those  who  have  earned  it,  but  burdensome 
to  those  who  get  it  for  nothing. 

Arouse  yourself,  }^oung  man !  Shake  off  the  wretched 
and  disgraceful  habits  of  the  do-nothing,  if  you  have 
been  so  unfortunate  as  to  incur  them,  and  go  to  work 
at  once!  "But  what  shall  I  do?"  you  perhaps  ask. 
Anything,  rather  than  continue  in  dependent,  and 
enfeebling,  and  demoralizing  idleness.  If  you  can  get 
nothing  else  to  do,  sweep  the  streets.  But  you  are 
"ashamed"  to  do  that.  If  so,  your  shame  has  been 
very  slow  in  manifesting  itself,  seeing  how  long  you 
have  been  acting,  on  life's  great  stage,  the  despicable 
parts  of  drone  and  loafer,  without  shame! 

Idler!  Take  the  foregoing  home  to  yourself.  Don't 
try  to  persuade  yourself  that  the  cap  does  n't  fit  you. 
Honestly  acknowledge  its  fitness.  It  will  be  a  great 
point  gained,  to  become  honest  with  yourself.  It  will 
be  a  step  forward — a  step  toward  that  justice  to 
others  which  your  present  conduct  absolutely  ignores! 


142 


EDUCATION. 


Manufacturers  find  intelligent  educated  mechanics 
more  profitable  to  employ,  even  at  higher  wages,  than 
those  who  are  uneducated.  We  have  never  met  any 
one  who  had  much  experience  in  employing  large  num- 
bers of  men  who  did  not  hold  this  opinion,  and,  as  a 
general  rule,  those  manufacturers  are  most  successful 
who  are  most  careful  to  secure  intelligent  and  skillful 
workmen. 

It  requires  extensive  observation  to  enable  one  even 
partially  to  appreciate  the  wonderful  extent  to  which  all 
the  faculties  are  developed  by  mental  cultivation.  The 
nervous  system  grows  more  vigorous  and  active,  the 
touch  is  more  sensitive,  and  there  is  greater  mobility  in 
the  hand. 

We  once  knew  a  weaving  room  filled  with  girls 
above  the  average  in  character  and  intelligence,  and 
there  was  one  girl  among  them  who  had  been  highly 
educated.  Though  length  of  arms  and  strength  of 
muscle  are  advantages  in  weaving,  and  though  this  girl 
was  short  and  small,  she  always  wove  the  greatest 
number  of  pieces  in  the  room,  and  consequently  drew 
the  largest  pay  at  the  end  of  every  month.  We  might 
fill  many  pages  with  similar  cases  which  have  come 
under  our  own  observation,  but  there  is  no  occasion. 
It  has  long  since  been  settled  by  the  general  observa- 
tion of  manufacturers,  that  intelligent  workmen  will  do 
more  and  better  work  than  ignorant  ones. 

But  the  excess  in  the  amount  of  work  performed  is 


EDUCATION. 


143 


not  the  most  important  respect  in  which  an  intelligent 
workman  is  superior  to  a  stupid  one.  He  is  far  more 
likely  to  be  faithful  to  the  interests  of  his  employer,  to 
save  from  waste  and  to  turn  to  profit  every  thing  that 
comes  to  his  hand.  There  is  also  the  exalted  satisfac- 
tion of  being  surrounded  by  thinking,  active  and  inquir- 
ing minds,  instead  of  by  ignorance. 

Such  are  some  of  the  advantages  to  the  "  Captains 
of  Industry,"  which  result  from  the  employment  of 
intelligent  workmen;  not  in  one  article,  nor  any  number 
of  articles,  could  these  advantages  be  fully  set  forth. 
And  if  it  is  impossible  to  state  the  advantages  to  the 
emplo}Ter,  how  vain  must  be  the  effort  to  describe  those 
which  result  to  the  workman  himself! 

The  increase  of  wages  is  the  least  and  lowest 
of  the  rich  rewards  of  mental  culture.  The  whole 
being  is  enlarged  and  exalted;  the  scope  of  view  is 
widened;  the  objects  of  interest  are  increased;  the 
subjects  of  thought  are  multiplied;  life  is  more  filled 
with  emotion;  and  the  man  is  raised  in  the  scale  of 
creation. 

To  intelligent  English  travelers,  nothing  in  the  United 
States  has  excited  such  wonder  and  admiration  as 
Lowell,  Nashua,  Manchester,  Lawrence,  and  the  other 
manufacturing  towns  of  New  England.  That  factory- 
girls  should  play  on  the  piano,  and  sustain  a  creditable 
magazine  by  their  own  contributions;  that  their  resi- 
dences should  be  clean,  commodious,  and  elegant;  that 
factory-men  should  be  intelligent  gentlemen,  well-read 
in  literature,  and  totally  unacquainted  with  beer  and  its 
inspiration's,  have  been,  for  many  years,  the  crowning 


144 


EDUCATION. 


marvels  of  America  to  all  travelers  of  right  feeling  and 
good  judgment. 

Daniel  Webster  says:  "Knowledge  does  not  com- 
prise all  which  is  contained  in  the  large  term  of  educa- 
tion. The  feelings  are  to  be  disciplined,  the  passions 
are  to  be  restrained;  true  and  worthy  motives  are  to- 
be  inspired;  a  profound  religious  feeling  is  to  be  in- 
stilled, and  pure  morality  inculcated  under  all  circum- 
stances.   All  this  is  comprised  in  education." 

Too  many  have  imbibed  the  idea  that  to  obtain  a 
sufficient  education  to  enable  a  man  to  appear  advan- 
tageously upon  the  theatre,  especially  of  public  life;  his 
boyhood  and  youth  must  be  spent  within  the  walls  of 
some  classical  seminary  of  learning,  that  he  may  com- 
mence his  career  under  the  high  floating  banner  of  a 
collegiate  diploma — with  them,  the  first  round  in  the 
ladder  of  fame. 

That  a  refined  classical  education  is  desirable,  and 
one  of  the  accomplishments  of  a  man,  I  admit — that  it 
is  indispensably  necessary,  and  always  makes  a  man 
more  useful,  I  deny.  Fie  who  has  been  incarcerated, 
from  his  childhood,  up  to  his  majority,  within  the 
limited  circumference  of  his  school  and  boarding  room, 
although  he  may  have  mastered  all  the  classics,  is 
destitute  of  that  knowledge  of  men  and  things,  indis- 
pensably necessary  to  prepare  him  for  action,  either  in 
private  or  public  life.  Classic  lore  and  polite  literature 
are  very  different  from  that  vast  amount  of  common 
intelligence,  fit  for  every  day  use,  that  he  must  have,  to 
render  his  intercourse  with  society  pleasing  to  himself, 
or  agreeable  to  others.    He  is  liable  to  imposition  at 


EDUCATION. 


145 


every  turn  he  makes.  He  may  have  a  large  fund  of 
fine  sense,  but  if  he  lacks  common  sense,  he  is  like  a 
ship  without  a  rudder.  Let  boys  and  girls  be  taught, 
first  and  last,  all  that  is  necessary  to  prepare  them  for 
the  common  duties  of  life — if  the  classics  and  polite 
literature  can  be  worked  between  the  coarser  branches, 
they  will  be  much  safer — as  silk  goods  are,  enclosed  in 
canvas,  or  a  bale.  I  wish  not  to  undervalue  high  sem- 
inaries of  learning — but  rather  to  stimulate  those  to 
persevere  in  the  acquirement  of  science,  who  are  de- 
prived of  the  advantage  of  their  dazzling  lights.  Frank- 
lin, Sherman,  and  others,  emerged  from  the  work  shop, 
and  illuminated  the  world  as  brightly,  as  the  most  pro- 
found scholar  from  a  college.  In  this  enlightened  age, 
and  in  our  free  country,  all  who  will,  may  drink, 
deeply,  at  the  pure  fountain  of  science.  Ignorance  is  a 
voluntary  misfortune.  By  a  proper  improvement  of 
time,  the  apprentice  of  the  mechanic  may  lay  in  a 
stock  of  useful  knowledge,  that  will  enable  him,  when 
he  arrives  at  manhood,  to  take  a  respectable  stand  by 
the  side  of  those  who  have  grown  up  in  the  full  blaze 
of  a  collegiate  education — and  with  a  better  prospect 
of  success  at  the  start,  because  he  is  much  better 
stocked  with  common  information,  without  which  a 
man  is  a  poor  helpless  animal. 

Education  of  every  kind  has  two  values — value  as 
knowledge  and  value  as  discipline.  Besides  its  use  for 
guidance  in  conduct,  the  acquisition  of  each  order  of 
facts  has  also  its  use  as  mental  exercise;  and  its  effects 
as  a  preparative  for  complete  living  have  to  be  consid- 
ered under  both  these  heads. 
10 


146 


EDUCATION. 


Education  cannot  be  acquired  without  pains  and 
application.  It  is  troublesome  and  deep  digging  for 
pure  water,  but  when  once  you  come  to  the  springs, 
they  rise  up  and  meet  you.  Every  grain  helps  fill  the 
bushel,  so  does  the  improvement  of  every  moment 
increase  knowledge. 

Says  Swedenborg:  "It  is  of  no  advantage  to  man 
to  know  much,  unless  he  lives  according  to  what  he 
knows,  for  knowledge  has  no  other  end  than  goodness; 
and  he  who  is  made  good  is  in  possession  of  a  far 
richer  treasure  than  he  whose  knowledge  is  the  most 
extensive,  and  yet  is  destitute  of  goodness;  for,  what 
the  latter  is  seeking  by  his  great  acquirements,  the 
former  already  possesses." 

One  of  the  most  agreeable  consequences  of  knowl- 
edge is  the  respect  and  importance  which  it  com- 
municates to  old  age.  Men  rise  in  character  often  as 
they  increase  in  years;  they  are  venerable  from  what 
they  have  acquired  and  pleasing  from  what  they  can 
knpart.  Knowledge  is  the  treasure,  but  judgment  the 
treasurer  of  a  wise  man.  Superficial  knowledge,  pleas- 
ure dearly  purchased,  and  subsistence  at  the  will  of 
another,  are  the  disgrace  of  mankind. 

The  chief  properties  of  wisdom  are  to  be  mindful  of 
things  past,  careful  for  things  present,  and  provident  for 
things  to  come. 

He  that  thinks  himself  the  happiest  man  is  really  so; 
but  he  that  thinks  himself  the  wisest  is  generally  the 
greatest  fool. 

A  wise  man,  says  Seneca,  is  provided  for  occurrences 
of  any  kind:  the  good  he  manages,  the  bad  he  van- 


EDUCATION. 


147 


-quishes;  in  prosperity  he  betrays  no  presumption,  and 
in  adversity  he  feels  no  despondency. 

By  gaining  a  good  education  you  shall  have  your 
reward  in  the  rich  stores  of  knowledge  you  have  thus 
collected,  and  which  shall  ever  be  at  your  command. 
More  valuable  than  earthly  treasure — while  fleets  may 
sink,  and  storehouses  consume,  and  banks  may  totter, 
and  riches  flee,  the  intellectual  investments  you  have 
thus  made  will  be  permanent  and  enduring,  unfailing  as 
the  constant  flow  of  Niagara  or  Amazon — a  bank 
whose  dividends  are  perpetual,  whose  wealth  is  undi- 
minished however  frequent  the  drafts  upon  it;  which, 
though  moth  may  impair,  yet  thieves  cannot  break 
through  nor  steal. 

Nor  will  you  be  able  to  fill  these  storehouses  to  their 
full.  Pour  into  a  glass  a  stream  of  water,  and  at  last 
it  fills  to  the  brim  and  will  not  hold  another  drop.  But 
you  may  pour  into  your  mind,  through  a  whole  lifetime, 
•streams  of  knowledge  from  every  conceivable  quarter, 
and  not  only  shall  it  never  be  full,  but  it  will  constantly 
thirst  for  more,  and  welcome  each  fresh  supply  with  a 
greater  joy. 

Nay,  more,  to  all  around  you  may  impart  of  these 
gladdening  streams  which  have  so  fertilized  your  own 
mind,  and  yet,  like  the  candle  from  which  a  thousand 
other  candles  may  be  lit  without  diminishing  its  flame, 
3'our  supply  shall  not  be  impaired.  On  the  contrary, 
your  knowledge,  as  you  add  to  it,  will  itself  attract  still 
.  more  as  it  widens  your  realm  of  thought;  and  thus  will 
you  realize  in  your  own  life  the  parable  of  the  ten 
talents,  for  "to  him  that  hath  shall  be  given." 


148 


OPPORTUNITY. 


The  beginning  of  wisdom  is  to  fear  God,  but  the  end 
of  it  is  to  love  him.  The  highest  learning  is  to  be 
wise;  and  the  greatest  wisdom  is  to  be  good.  The 
wise  man  looks  forward  into  futurity,  and  considers 
what  will  be  his  condition  millions  of  ages  hence,  as 
well  as  what  it  is  at  present. 


Many  do  with  opportunity  as  children  do  at  the  sea- 
shore; they  fill  their  little  hands  with  sand,  then  let 
the  grains  fall  through  one  b}^  one,  till  they  are  all  gone. 

Four  things  come  not  back;  the  spoken  word;  the 
sped  arrow;  the  past  life;  and  the  neglected  oppor' 
tunity.  Opportunity  has  hair  in  front,  behind  she  is 
bald;  if  you  seize  her  by  the  forelock  you  may  hold 
her,  but  if  suffered  to  escape,  not  Jupiter  himself  can 
catch  her  again.  Opportunities  are  the  offers  of  God. 
Heaven  gives  us  enough  when  it  gives  us  opportunity. 
Great  opportunities  are  generally  the  result  of  the  wise 
improvement  of  small  ones.  Wise  men  make  more 
opportunities  than  they  find.  If  you  think  your  oppor- 
tunities are  not  good  enough,  you  had  better  improve 
them.  Remember  you  are  responsible  for  talents,  for 
time,  and  for  opportunities;  improve  them  as  one  that 
must  give  an  account.  Make  hay  while  the  sun  shines. 
Gather  roses  while  they  bloom. 

As  a  general  rule,  those  who  have  no  opportunities 


OPPORTUNITY.  14Q 

despise  small  ones;  and  those  who  despise  small  oppor- 
tunities never  get  large  ones. 

Opportunity  does  not  only  do  great  work,  but  if  not 
heeded  is  often  most  disastrous. 

A  shipmaster  once  said,  "It  was  my  lot  to  fall  in 
with  the  ill-fated  steamer,  the  'Central  America.'  The 
night  was  closing  in,  the  sea  rolling  high;  but  I  hailed 
the  crippled  steamer,  and  asked  if  they  needed  help. 
'I  am  in  a  sinking  condition,'  cried  Captain  Herndon, 
^Had  you  not  better  send  your  passengers  on  board 
directly?'  I  said.  'Will  you  not  lay  by  me  till  morn- 
ing?' answered  Captain  Herndon.  'I  will  try,1  I 
replied;  'but  had  you  not  better  send  your  passengers 
on  board  now?'  ' Lay  by  me  till  morning,'  again  said 
•Captain  Herndon.  I  tried  to  lay  by  him;  but  at  night 
such  was  the  heavy  roll  of  the  sea  I  could  not  keep  my 
position,  and  I  never  saw  the  steamer  again.  In  an 
hour  and  a  half  after  the  captain  said  '  Lay  by  me  till 
morning,'  the  vessel,  with  its  living  freight,  went  down 
— the  captain  and  crew,  and  a  great  majority  of  pas- 
.sengers,  found  a  grave  in  the  deep."  There  is  so  little 
time  for  over-squeamishness  at  present  the  opportunity 
slips  away;  the  very  period  of  life  at  which  a  man 
chooses  to  venture,  if  ever,  is  so  confined  that  it  is  no 
bad  rule  to  preach  up  the  necessity,  in  such  instances, 
of  a  little  violence  done  to  the  feelings,  and  of  efforts 
made  in  defiance  of  strict  and  sober  calculation  and  not 
pass  one  opportunity  after  another. 

What  may  be  done  at  anytime,  will  be  done  at  no 
time.  Take  time  while  time  is,  for  time  will  away,  say 
the  English.    When  the  fool  has  made  up  his  mind,  the 


150 


SPARE  MOMENTS. 


market  has  gone  by;  Spanish.  A  little  too  late,  much 
too  late;  Dutch.  Some  refuse  roast  meat,  and  after- 
wards long  for  the  smoke  of  it;  Italian. 

There  is  sometimes  wanting  only  a  stroke  of  fortune  ta 
discover  numberless  latent  good  or  bad  qualities,  which 
would  otherwise  have  been  eternally  concealed;  as 
words  written  with  a  certain  liquor  appear  only  when 
applied  to  the  fire. 

Accident  does  very  little  toward  the  production  of 
any  great  result  in  life.  Though  sometimes  what  is. 
called  a  " happy  hit"  may  be  made  by  a  bold  venture, 
the  old  and  common  highway  of  steady  industry  and 
application  is  the  only  safe  road  to  travel. 

It  is  not  accident,  that  helps  a  man  in  the  world,  but 
purpose  and  persistent  industry.  These  make  a  man 
sharp  to  discern  opportunities,  and  turn  them  to  account. 
To  the  feeble,  the  sluggish,  and  purposeless,  the  hap- 
piest opportunities  avail  nothing — they  pass  them  by^ 
seeing  no  meaning  in  them. 


If  we  are  prompt  to  seize  and  improve  even  the 
shortest  intervals  of  possible  action  and  effort,  it  is 
astonishing  how  much  can  be  accomplished.  Watt 
taught  himself  chemistry  and  mechanics  while  working 
at  his  trade  of  a  mathematical  instrument  maker;  and 
he  availed  himself  of  every  opportunity  to  extend  his. 


SPARE  MOMENTS. 


151 


knowledge  of  language,  literature,  and  the  principles 
of  science.  Stephenson  taught  himself  arithmetic  and 
mensuration  while  working  as  an  engineer  during  the 
night  shifts,  and  he  studied  mechanics  during  his  spare 
hours  at  home,  thus  preparing  himself  for  the  great 
work  of  his  life — the  invention  of  the  passenger  loco- 
motive. 

With  perseverance,  the  very  odds  and  ends  of  time 
may  be  worked  up  into  results  of  the  greatest  value. 
An  hour  in  every  day  withdrawn  from  frivolous  pur- 
suits, would,  if  profitably  employed,  enable  any  man  of 
ordinary  capacity,  very  shortly  to  master  a  complete 
science.  It  would  make  an  ignorant  man  a  well- 
informed  man  in  ten  years.  We  must  not  allow  the 
time  to  pass  without  yielding  fruits,  in  the  form  of 
something  learned  worthy  of  being  known,  some  good 
principle  cultivated,  or  some  good  habit  strengthened. 
Dr.  Mason  Good  translated  Lucretius  while  riding  in 
his  carriage  in  the  streets  of  London,  going  his  rounds 
among  his  patients.  Dr.  Darwin  composed  nearly  all 
his  works  in  the  same  way,  while  riding  about  in  his 
"sulky,"  from  house  to  house  in  the  country — writing 
down  his  thoughts  on  little  scraps  of  paper,  which  he 
carried  about  with  him  for  the  purpose.  Hale  wrote 
his  ucor'  .mplations"  while  traveling  on  a  circuit.  Dr. 
Burney  learned  French  and  Italian  while  traveling  on 
horseback  from  one  musical  pupil  to  another  in  the 
course  of  his  profession.  Kirk  White  learned  Greek 
while  walking  to  and  from  a  lawyer's  office;  and  we 
personally  know  a  man  of  eminent  position  in  a  northern 
manufacturing  town,  who  learned  Latin  and  French. 


152  SPARE  MOMENTS. 


while  going  messages  as  an  errand  boy  in  the  streets  of 
Manchester. 

Elihu  Burritt  attributed  his  first  success  in  self- 
improvement,  not  to  genius,  which  he  disclaimed,  but 
simply  to  the  careful  employment  of  those  invaluable 
fragments  of  time,  called  "odd  moments."  While 
working  and  earning  his  living  as  a  blacksmith,  he 
mastered  some  eighteen  ancient  and  modern  languages, 
and  twenty-two  European  dialects.  Withal,  he  was 
exceedingly  modest,  and  thought  his  achievements 
nothing  extraordinary.  Like  another  learned  and  wise 
man,  of  whom  it  was  said  that  he  could  be  silent  in  ten 
languages,  Elihu  Burritt  could  do  the  same  in  forty. 
"  Those  who  have  been  acquainted  with  my  character 
from  my  youth  up,"  said  he,  writing  to  a  friend,  "will 
give  me  credit  for  sincerity  when  I  say,  that  it  never 
entered  into  my  head  to  blazon  forth  any  acquisition  of 
my  own.  *  *  *  All  that  I  have  accomplished,  or 
expect,  or  hope  to  accomplish,  has  been  and  will  be  by 
that  plodding,  patient,  persevering  process  of  accretion 
which  builds  the  ant-heap — particle  by  particle,  thought 
by  thought,  fact  by  fact.  And  if  ever  I  was  actuated 
by  ambition,  its  highest  and  warmest  aspiration  reached 
no  further  than  the  hope  to  set  before  the  young  men 
of  my  country  an  example  in  employing  those  invaluable 
fragments  of  time  called  'odd  moment s.'" 

Daguesseau,  one  of  the  great  chancellors  of  France, 
by  carefully  working  up  his  odd  bits  of  time,  wrote  a 
bulky  and  able  volume  in  the  successive  intervals  of 
waiting  for  dinner;  and  Madame  de  Gentis  composed 
several  of  her  charming  volumes  while  waiting  for  the 


SPARE  MOMENTS. 


153 


princess  to  whom  she  gave  her  daily  lessons.  Jeremy 
Bentham  in  like  manner  disposed  of  his  hours  of  labor 
and  repose,  so  that  not  a  moment  should  be  lost,  the 
arrangement  being  determined  on  the  principle  that  it 
is  a  calamity  to  lose  the  smallest  portion  of  time.  He 
lived  and  worked  habitually  under  the  practical  con- 
sciousness that  man's  days  are  numbered,  and  that  the 
night  cometh  when  no  man  can  work. 

What  a  solemn  and  striking  admonition  to  youth  is 
that  inscribed  on  the  dial  at  All  Souls,  Oxford,  England. 
"Periunt  et  imputantur"  the  hours  perish  and  are 
laid  to  our  charge.  For  time,  like  life,  can  never  be 
recalled.  Melanchton  noted  down  the  time  lost  by  him, 
that  he  might  thereby  reanimate  his  industry,  and  not 
lose  an  hour.  An  Italian  scholar  put  over  his  door  an 
inscription  intimating  that  whosoever  remained  there 
should  join  in  his  labors.  "We  are  afraid,"  said  some 
visitors  to  Baxter,  "that  we  break  in  upon  your  time." 
"To  be  sure  you  do,"  replied  the  disturbed  and  blunt 
divine.  Time  was  the  estate  out  of  which  these  great 
workers,  and  all  other  workers,  carved  a  rich  inherit- 
ance of  thoughts  and  deeds  for  their  successors. 

Sir  Walter  Scott  found  spare  moments  for  self-im- 
provement in  every  pursuit,  and  turned  even  accidents 
to  account.  Thus  it  was  in  the  discharge  of  his  func- 
tions as  a  writer's  apprentice  that  he  first  penetrated 
into  the  Highlands,  and  formed  those  friendships  among 
the  surviving  heroes  of  1745  which  served  to  lay  the 
foundation  for  a  large  class  of  his  works.  Later  in  life, 
when  employed  as  quartermaster  of  the  Edinburgh 
Light  Cavalry,  he  was  accidentally  disabled  by  the 


154 


BOOKS. 


kick  of  a  horse,  and  confined  for  sometime  to  his  house; 
but  Scott  was  a  sworn  enemy  to  idleness,  and  he  forth- 
with set  his  mind  to  work,  and  in  three  days  composed 
the  first  canto  of  "The  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel, n 
his  first  great  original  work. 

Let  not,  then,  the  young  man  sit  with  folded  hands,, 
calling  on  Hercules.  Thine  own  arm  is  the  demi-god. 
It  was  given  thee  to  help  thyself.  Go  forth  into  the 
world  trustful,  but  fearless.  Exalt  thine  adopted  calling 
or  profession.  Look  on  labor  as  honorable,  and  dignify 
the  task  before  thee,  whether  it  be  in  the  study,  office, 
counting-room,  work-shop,  or  furrowed  field.  There  is 
an  equality  in  all,  and  the  resolute  will  and  pure  heart 
may  ennoble  either. 


No  man  has  a  right  to  bring  up  his  children  without 
surrounding  them  with  books.  It  is  a  wrong  to  his 
family.  He  cheats  them.  Children  learn  to  read  by 
being  in  the  presence  of  books.  The  love  of  knowl- 
edge comes  with  reading,  and  grows  upon  it.  And  the 
love  of  knowledge  in  a  young  mind  is  almost  a  warrant 
against  the  inferior  excitement  of  passions  and  vices. 

A  little  library,  growing  larger  every  year,  is  an 
honorable  part  of  a  young  man^  history.  It  is  a  man's 
duty  to  have  books.  A  library  is  not  a  luxury,  but  one 
of  the  necessaries  of  life.    It  is  not  like  a  dead  city  of 


BOOKS. 


155 


stones,  yearly  crumbling,  and  needing  repair;  but  like 
a  spiritual  tree.  There  it  stands  and  yields  its  precious 
fruit  from  year  to  year  and  from  age  to  age. 

Carlyle  saw  the  influence  of  books  many  years  ago. 
"I  say,  of  all  the  priesthoods,  aristocracies  —  governing 
classes  at  present  extant  in  the  world — there  is  no 
class  comparable  for  importance  to  priesthood  of  the 
writers  of  books." 

The  art  of  writing  and  of  printing,  which  is  a 
sequence  to  it,  is  really  the  most  wonderful  thing  in  the 
world.  Books  are  the  soul  of  actions,  the  only  audible^ 
articulate  voice  of  the  accomplished  facts  of  the  past. 
The  men  of  antiquity  are  dead;  their  fleets  and  armies 
have  disappeared;  their  cities  are  ruins;  their  temples 
are  dust;  yet  all  these  exist  in  magic  preservation  in 
the  books  they  have  bequeathed  us,  and  their  manners 
and  their  deeds  are  as  familiar  to  us  as  the  events  of 
yesterday.  And  these  papers  and  books,  the  mass  of 
printed  matter  which  we  call  literature,  are  really  the 
teacher,  guide  and  law-giver  of  the  world  to-day. 

The  influence  of  books  upon  man  is  remarkable; 
they  make  the  man.  You  may  judge  a  man  more 
truly  by  the  books  and  papers  which  he  reads  than  by 
the  company  which  he  keeps,  for  his  associates  are 
often,  in  a  manner,  imposed  upon  him;  but  his  reading 
is  the  result  of  choice,  and  the  man  who  chooses  a  cer- 
tain class  of  books  and  papers  unconsciously  becomes 
more  colored  in  their  views,  more  rooted  in  their 
opinions,  and  the  mind  becomes  fettered  to  their  views* 

All  the  life  and  feeling  of  a  young  girl  fascinated  by 
some  glowing  love  romance,  is  colored  and  shaped  by 


156 


B00K8. 


the  page  she  reads.  If  it  is  false,  and  weak,  and  foolish, 
she  will  be  false,  and  weak,  and  foolish,  too;  but  if  it  is 
true,  and  tender,  and  inspiring,  then  something  of  its 
truth,  and  tenderness,  and  inspiration  will  grow  into  her 
soul  and  will  become  a  part  of  her  very  self.  The  boy 
who  reads  .deeds  of  manliness,  of  bravery  and  noble 
daring,  feels  the  spirit  of  emulation  grow  within  him, 
and  the  seed  is  planted  which  will  bring  forth  fruit  of 
heroic  endeavor  and  exalted  life. 

A  good  book  is  the  most  appropriate  gift  that  friend- 
ship can  make.  It  never  changes,  it  never  grows  un- 
fashionable or  old.  It  is  soured  by  no  neglect,  is  jealous 
of  no  rival;  but  always  its  clean,  clear  pages  are  ready 
to  amuse,  interest  and  instruct.  The  voice  that  speaks 
the  thought  may  change  or  grow  still  forever,  the  heart 
that  prompted  the  kindly  and  cheering  word  may  grow 
cold  and  forgetful;  but  the  page  that  mirrors  it  is 
changeless,  faithful,  immortal.  The  book  that  records 
the  incarnation  of  divine  love,  is  God's  best  gift  to  man, 
and  the  books  which  are  filled  with  kindly  thought 
and  generous  sympathy,  are  the  best  gifts  of  friend  to 
friend. 

Every  family  ought  to  be  well  supplied  with  a  choice 
supply  of  books  for  reading.  This  may  be  seen  from 
the  consequences  of  its  neglect  and  abuse  on  the  one 
hand,  and  from  its  value  and  importance  on  the  other. 
Parents  should  furnish  their  children  the  necessary 
means,  opportunities  and  direction  of  a  Christian  educa- 
tion. Give  them  proper  books.  "Without  books," 
says  the  quaint  Bartholin,  "God  is  silent,  justice  dor- 
mant, science  at  a  stand,  philosophy  lame,  letters  dumb, 


BOOKS. 


157 


and  all  things  involved  in  Cimmerian  darkness."  Bring 
them  up  to  the  habit  of  properly  reading  and  studying 
these  books.  "A  reading  people  will  soon  become  a 
thinking  people,  and  a  thinking  people  must  soon 
become  a  great  people."  Every  book  you  furnish  your 
child,  and  which  it  reads  with  reflection  is  "like  a  cast 
of  the  weaver's  shuttle,  adding  another  thread  to  the 
indestructible  web  of  existence."  It  will  be  worth 
more  to  him  than  all  your  hoarded  gold  and  silver. 

Dear  reader,  be  independent  and  make  up  your 
mind  what  it  is  best  for  you  to  read,  and  read  it. 
Master  a  few  good  books.  Life  is  short,  and  books 
are  many.  Instead  of  having  your  mind  a  garret 
crowded  with  rubbish,  make  it  a  parlor  with  rich  fur- 
niture, beautifully  arranged,  in  which  you  would  not  be 
ashamed  to  have  the  whole  world  enter.  "Readers," 
says  Addison,  "who  are  in  the  flower  of  their  youth 
should  labor  at  those  accomplishments  which  may  set 
off  their  persons  when  their  bloom  is  gone,  and  to  lay 
in  timely  provisions  for  manhood  and  old  age."  Says 
Dr.  Watts:  "A  line  of  the  golden  verses  of  the 
Pythagoreans  recurring  in  the  memory  hath  often 
tempted  youth  to  frown  on  temptation  to  vice."  No 
less  worthy  is  the  following:  "There  are  many  silver 
books,  and  a  few  golden  books;  but  I  have  one  book 
worth  more  than  all,  called  the  Bible,  and  that  is  a 
book  of  bank  notes."  The  parent  who  lives  for  his 
children's  souls  will  often  consider  what  other  books 
are  most  likely  to  prepare  his  little  ones  for  prizing 
aright  that  Book  of  Books,  and  make  that  object  the 
pole  star  of  his  endeavors. 


158 


BOOKS. 


Every  book  has  a  moral  expression,  though  as  in 
the  human  face,  it  may  not  be  easy  to  say  what  it 
consists  in.  We  may  take  up  some  exquisite  poem 
or  story,  with  no  distinctly  religious  bearing,  and  feel 
that  it  is  religious,  because  it  strikes  a  chord  so  deep 
in  human  nature,  that  we  feel  that  it  is  only  the  divine 
nature,  "God  who  encompasses,"  that  can  respond  to 
what  it  calls  forth.  When  we  feel  the  inspiring  influ- 
ence of  books,  when  we  are  lifted  on  the  wings  of 
ancient  genius,  we  should  jealously  avoid  the  perver- 
sion of  the  gift.  The  children  of  this  world  have  their 
research  and  accomplishment,  and  enough  is  done  for 
pleasure  and  fame;  but  the  Christian  scholar  will 
rebuke  himself,  unless  he  finds  it  in  his  heart  to  be 
more  alive  in  devotion  to  heavenly  things,  at  the  very 
moment  when  he  has  breathed  the  aroma  of  poetry 
and  eloquence.  Some  books  are  to  be  tasted,  others 
to  be  swallowed,  and  some  few  to  be  chewed  and 
digested:  that  is,  some  books  are  to  be  read  only  in 
parts;  others  to  be  read,  but  not  curiously;  and  some 
few  to  be  read  wholly,  and  with  diligence  and  atten- 
tion. Some  books  also  may  be  read  by  deputy,  and 
extracts  made  of  them  by  others;  but  that  would  be 
only  in  the  less  important  arguments,  and  the  meaner 
sort  of  books;  else  distilled  books  are,  like  common 
distilled  waters,  flashy  things. 

"Not  to  know  what  was  before  you  were,  is,"  as 
has  been  truly  said,  "to  be  always  a  child."  And  it 
is  equally  true  that  he  never  becomes  a  complete  man, 
who  learns  nothing  of  the  former  days,  from  reading. 
"Books,"  says  a  good  writer,  "are  the  crystalline 


BOOKS. 


159 


founts,  which  hold  in  eternal  ice  the  imperishable  gems 
of  the  past." 

Good  books  are  invaluable  as  a  moral  guard  to  a 
young  man.  The  culture  of  a  taste  for  such  reading, 
keeps  one  quietly  at  home,  and  prevents  a  thirst  for 
exciting  recreations  and  debasing  pleasure.  It  makes 
him  scorn  whatever  is  low,  coarse,  and  vulgar.  It 
prevents  that  weary  and  restless  temper  which  drives 
so  many  to  the  saloon,  if  not  the  gambling  table,  to 
while  away  their  leisure  hours.  Once  form  the  habit 
of  domestic  reading,  and  you  will,  at  any  time,  prefer 
an  interesting  book,  to  frequenting  the  haunts  of  vice. 

Chief  among  the  educational  influences  of  a  house- 
hold are  its  books.  Therefore,  good  sir  or  madam, 
wherever  you  economize,  do  not  cut  off  the  supply  of 
good  literature.  Have  the  best  books,  the  best  papers, 
and  .the  best  magazines,  though  you  turn  your  old 
black  silk  once  more,  and  make  the  old  coat  do  duty 
another  season.  Nothing  will  compensate  to  your 
boys  and  girls  for  the  absence  of  those  quiet,  kindly 
teachers,  who  keep  such  order  in  their  schools, 
and  whose  invaluable  friendship  never  cools  or  suffers 
change.  You  may  go  without  pies  and  cake,  or  with- 
out butter  on  your  bread,  but,  if  you  care  for  your 
family's  best  happiness  and  progress,  you  will  not  go 
without  the  best  of  books,  such  as  Shakspeare  and 
Irving,  Thackeray  and  Dickens,  and  of  the  best  authors 
of  the  day. 

In  books  we  live  continually  in  the  decisive  moments 
of  history,  and  in  the  deepest  experience  of  individual 
lives.    The  flowers  which  we  cull  painfully  and  at  long 


160 


BOOKS. 


intervals  in  our  personal  history,  blossom  in  profusion 
here  and  the  air  is  full  of  a  fragrance  which  touches 
our  own  life  only  in  the  infrequent  springs.  In  our 
libraries  we  meet  great  men  on  a  familiar  footing,  and 
are  at  ease  with  them.  We  come  to  know  them  better, 
perhaps,  than  those  who  bear  their  names  and  sit  at 
their  tables.  The  reserve  that  makes  so  many  fine 
natures  difficult  of  access  is  entirely  lost.  No  crude- 
ness  of  manner,  no  poverty  of  speech  or  unfortunate 
personal  peculiarity,  mars  the  intercourse  of  author 
and  reader.  It  is  a  relation  in  which  the  interchange 
of  thought  is  undisturbed  by  outward  conditions.  We 
lose  our  narrow  selves  in  the  broader  life  that  is  opened 
to  us.  We  forget  the  hindrances  and  limitations  of 
our  own  work  in  the  full  comprehension  of  that  stronger 
life  that  cannot  be  bound  nor  confined,  but  grows  in  all 
soils  and  climbs  heavenward  under  every  sky.  It  is 
the  privilege  of  greatness  to  understand  life  in  its  height 
and  depth.  Hazlitt  has  told  us  of  his  first  interview 
with  Coleridge,  and  of  the  moonlight  walk  homeward, 
when  the  eloquent  lips  of  the  great  conversationalist 
awoke  the  slumbering  genius  within  him,  and  made  the 
old  familiar  world  strange  and  wonderful  under  a  sky 
that  seemed  full  of  new  stars.  Such  intercourse  with 
gifted  men  is  the  privilege  of  few;  but  in  the  seclusion 
of  the  library  there  often  grows  up  an  acquaintance 
more  thorough  and  inspiring.  Books  are  rich,  not  only 
in  thought  and  sentiment,  but  in  character.  Where 
shall  we  find  in  any  capitals  such  majesty  as  "doth 
hedge  about"  the  kings  of  Shakspeare,  or  such  brave 
and  accomplished  gentlemen  *as  adorn  his  courts  and 


BOOKS. 


161 


measure  wit  and  courtesy  with  the  fair«and  graceful 
women  of  his  fancy? 

The  best  society  in  the  world  is  that  which  lives  in 
books.  No  taint  of  vulgarity  attaches  to  it,  no  petty 
strife  for  place  and  power  disturbs  its  harmony,  no 
falsehood  stains  its  perfect  truth;  and  those  who  move 
habitually  in  these  associations  find  a  strength  which  is 
the  more  controlling  because  moulded  by  genius  into 
forms  of  grace  and  refinement. 

There  is  a  certain  monotony  in  daily  life,  and  those 
whose  aims  are  high,  but  who  lack  the  inherent  strength 
to  stand  true  to  them  amid  adverse  influences,  gradually 
drop  out  of  the  ever-thinning  ranks  of  the  aspiring. 
They  are  conquered  by  routine,  and  disheartened  by 
the  discipline  and  labor  that  guard  the  prizes  of  life. 
Even  to  the  strongest  there  are  hours  of  weakness  and 
weariness.  To  the  weak,  and  to  the  strong  in  their 
times  of  weakness,  books  are  inspiring  friends  and 
teachers.  Against  the  feebleness  of  individual  efforts 
they  proclaim  the  victory  of  faith  and  patience,  and 
out  of  the  uncertainty  and  discouragement  of  one  day's 
work  they  prophesy  the  fuller  and  richer  life,  that 
grows  strong  and  deep  through  conflict,  sets  itself  more 
and  more  in  harmony  with  the  noblest  aims,  and  is  at 
last  crowned  with  honor  and  power. 
11 


162 


BEADING. 


There  are  four  classes  of  readers.  The  first  is  like 
the  hour-glass;  and  their  readings  being  on  the  sand,  it 
runs  in  and  runs  out  and  leaves  no  vestige  behind.  A 
■second  is  like  a  sponge,  which  imbibes  everything,  and 
returns  it  in  the  same  state,  only  a  little  dirtier.  A 
third  is  like  a  jelly  bag,  allowing  all  that  is  pure  to  pass 
away,  and  retaining  only  the  refuse  and  dregs.  The 
fourth  is  like  the  slaves  in  the  diamond  mines  of  Gol- 
<:onda,  who,  casting  aside  all  that  is  worthless,  obtain 
only  pure  gems. 

One's  reading  is,  usually,  a  fair  index  of  his  charac- 
ter. Observe,  in  almost  any  house  you  visit,  the  books 
which  lie  customarily  on  the  center-table;  or  note  what 
are  taken  by  preference  from  the  public  or  circulating 
library;  and  you  may  judge,  in  no  small  degree,  not 
only  the  intellectual  tastes  and  the  general  intelligence 
of  the  family,  but  also — and  what  is  of  far  deeper 
moment — you  may  pronounce  on  the  moral  attain- 
ments and  the  spiritual  advancement  of  most  of  the 
household.  aA  man  is  known,"  it  is  said,  "by  the 
company  he  keeps."  It  is  equally  true  that  a  man's 
character  may  be,  to  a  great  extent,  ascertained  by 
knowing  what  books  he  reads. 

The  temptation  to  corrupt  reading  is  usually  strong 
est  at  the  period  when  the  education  of  the  school- 
room is  about  closing.  The  test  of  the  final  utility, 
however,  is  the  time  when  our  youth  leave  these 
schools.    If  the  mind  be  now  awakened  to  a  manly 


READING. 


163 


independence,  and  start  on  a  course  of  vigorous  self- 
culture,  all  will  be  well.  But  if,  on  the  other  hand,  it 
sinks  into  a  state  of  inaction,  indifferent  to  its  own 
needs,  and  to  all  the  highest  ends  and  aims  of  life,  then 
woe  to  the  man.  For  few,  very  few,  ever  rouse  them- 
selves in  mid-life  to  a  new  intellectual  taste,  and  to' an 
untried  application  of  their  time  and  powers  to  that 
culture  for  which  the  Creator  formed  and  endowed 
them. 

To  read  books  which  present  false  pictures  of  human 
life  is  decidedly  dangerous,  and  we  would  say  stand 
aloof.  Life  is  neither  a  tragedy  nor  a  farce.  Men  are 
not  all  either  knaves  or  heroes.  Women  are  neither 
angels  nor  furies.  And  yet,  if  you  depended  upon 
much  of  the.  literature  of  the  day,  you  would  get  the 
idea  that  life,  instead  of  being  something  earnest,  some- 
thing practical,  is  a  fitful  and  fantastic  and  extravagant 
thing.  How  poorly  prepared  are  that  young  man  and 
woman  for  the  duties  of  to-day  who  spent  last  night 
wading  through  brilliant  passages  descriptive  of  mag- 
nificent knavery  and  wickedness.  The  man  will  be 
looking  all  day  long  for  his  heroine  in  the  tin  shop,  by 
the  forge,  in  the  factory,  in  the  counting-room,  and  he 
will  not  find  her,  and  he  will  be  dissatisfied.  A  man 
who  gives  himself  up  to  the  indiscriminate  reading  of 
novels  will  be  nerveless,  inane,  and  a  nuisance.  He 
will  be  fit  neither  for  the  store,  nor  the  shop,  nor  the 
field.  A  woman  who  gives  herself  up  to  the  indiscrim- 
inate reading  of  novels  will  be  unfitted  for  the  duties 
of  wife,  mother,  sister,  daughter.  There  she  is,  hair 
dishevelled,  countenance  vacant,  cheeks  pale,  hands 


164 


READING. 


trembling,  bursting  into  tears  at  midnight  over  the  fate 
of  some  unfortunate  lover;  in  the  day-time,  when  she 
ought  to  be  busy,  staring  by  the  half  hour  at  nothing; 
biting  her  finger  nails  to  the  quick.  The  carpet  that 
was  plain  before,  will  be  plainer,  after  through  a 
romance  all  night  long  having  wandered  in  tessellated 
halls  of  castles.  And  your  industrious  companion  will 
be  more  unattractive  than  ever,  now  that  you  have, 
walked  in  the  romance  through  parks  with  plumed 
princesses,  or  lounged  in  the  arbor  with  the  polished 
desperado. 

Abstain  from  all  those  books  which,  while  they  have 
some  good  things  about  them,  have  also  an  admixture 
of  evil.  You  have  read  books  that  had  the  two  elements 
in  them — the  good  and  the  bad.  Which  stuck  to  you? 
The  bad!  The  heart  of  most  people  is  like  a  sieve, 
which  lets  the  small  particles  of  gold  fall  through,  but 
keeps  the  great  cinders.  Once  in  a  while  there  is  a 
mind  like  a  loadstone,  which,  plunged  amid  steel  and 
brass  filings,  gathers  up  the  steel  and  repels  the  brass. 
But  it  is  generally  just  the  opposite.  If  you  attempt  to 
plunge  through  a  hedge  of  burrs  to  get  one  blackberry, 
you  will  get  more  burrs  than  blackberries.  You  cannot 
afford  to  read  a  bad  book,  however  good  you  are. 
You  say,  "The  influence  is  insignificant.' '  I  tell  you 
that  the  scratch  of  a  pin  has  sometimes  produced  the 
lockjaw.  Alas,  if  through  curiosity,  as  many  do,  you 
pry  into  an  evil  book,  your  curiosity  is  as  dangerous  as 
that  of  the  man  who  should  take  a  torch  into  a  gun- 
powder mill  merely  to  see  whether  it  really  would  blow 
up  or  not. 


BEADING. 


165 


Inferior  books  are  to  be  rejected,  in  an  age  and  time 
when  we  are  courted  by  whole  libraries,  and  when  no 
man's  life  is  long  enough  to  compass  even  those  which 
are  good  and  great  and  famous.  Why  should  we  bow 
down  at  puddles,  when  we  can  approach  freely  to  the 
crystal  spring-heads  of  science  and  letters?  Half  the 
reading  of  most  people  is  snatched  up  at  random. 
Many  stupefy  themselves  over  the  dullness  of  authors 
who  ought  never  to  have  escaped  oblivion.  The  inven- 
tion of  paper  and  printing — especially  the  production 
of  both  by  a  new  motive  power — may  be  said  to  have 
overdone  the  matter,  and  made  it  too  easy  to  be  born 
into  the  world  of  authorship.  The  race  would  be 
benefited  by  some  new  invention  for  strangling  nine 
out  of  ten  that  sue  for  publicity.  No  man  can  do  his 
friend  or  child  a  more  real  service  than  to  snatch  from 
his  hand  the  book  that  relaxes  and  effeminates  him,  lest 
he  destroy  the  solids  and  make  his  fibre  flaccid  by  the 
slops  and  hashes  of  a  catch-penny  press.  But  especially 
is  he  a  benefactor  who  instills  the  principle  that  no  com- 
position should  be  deliberately  sought,  which  is  not 
good,  beneficial,  and  above  mediocrity. 

To  those  who  plead  the  want  of  time  to  read,  we 
would  say,  be  as  frugal  of  your  hours  as  you  are  ot  . 
jour  dollars,  and  you  can  create  time  in  the  busiest  day. 
Horace  Greeley,  the  editor  of  a  newspaper  which  has 
reached  an  almost  incredible  circulation,  tells  us,  that 
when  a  boy,  he  would  "go  reading,  to  the  wood-pile; 
reading,  to  the  garden;  reading,  to  the  neighbors." 
His  father  was  poor,  and  needed  his  services  through 
the  day;  and  it  was  a  mighty  struggle  with  him  to  get 


166 


READING. 


Horace  to  bed.  k'I  would  take  a  pine  knot,"  he  saysr 
"put  it  on  the  back-log,  pile  my  books  around  me,  and 
lie  down  and  read  all  through  the  long  winter  evenings ; 
silent,  motionless,  and  dead  to  the  world  around  me, 
alive  only  to  the  world  to  which  I  was  transported  by 
my  book."  In  this  country  talent  has  a  fair  field  to 
rise  by  culture  from  the  humblest  walks  of  life,  and  to 
attain  the  highest  distinction  of  which  it  is  capable. 
"Why,"  inquired  a  bystander  of  a  certain  carpenter, 
who  was  bestowing  great  labor  in  planing  and  smooth- 
ing a  seat  for  the  bench  in  a  court-room,  "why  do  you 
spend  so  much  time  on  that  seat?"  "I  do  it,"  was  the 
reply,  "to  make  it  easy  for  myself."  And  he  kept  his 
word;  for,  by  industry,  perseverance,  and  self-educa- 
tion,  he  rose,  step  by  step,  until  he  actually  did  after- 
wards sit  as  judge  on  that  very  bench  he  had  planed  as 
a  carpenter. 

Consider  that  what  we  carry  to  a  book  is  always 
quite  as  important  as  what  we  receive  from  it.  We 
may  strike  the  keys  of  the  best  instrument,  from  ear- 
liest morn  to  latest  night,  but  unless  there  be  music  ia 
our  soul,  it  can  produce  no  harmony  for  us.  While,  to* 
an  earnest,  inquiring,  self-poised  mind,  "a  good  book  is 
•  the  plectrum  by  which  our  else  silent  lyres  are  struck." 
Master  your  reading,  and  let  it  never  master  you. 
Then  it  will  serve  you  with  an  ever-increasing  fidelity. 
Only  read  books  aright,  and  they  will  charge  your 
mind  with  the  true  electric  fire.  Take  them  up  as 
among  your  best  friends;  and  every  volume  you  peruse 
will  join  the  great  company  of  joyous  servitors  who- 
will  wait  around  your  immortal  intellect.    Then,  too,, 


READING. 


167 


your  daily  character  will  bear  the  signatures  of  the 
great  minds  you  commune  with  in  secret.  And,  as  the 
years  pass  on,  you  will  walk  in  the  light  of  an  ever- 
enlarging  multitude  of  well-chosen,  silent,  but  never- 
erring  guides. 

To  read  with  profit,  the  books  must  be  of  a  kind 
calculated  to  inform  the  mind,  correct  the  head,  and 
better  the  heart.  These  books  should  be  read  with 
attention,  understood,  remembered,  and  their  precepts, 
put  in  practice.  It  depends  less  on  number  than  qual- 
ity. One  good  book,  well  understood  and  remembered, 
is  of  more  use  than  to  have  a  superficial  knowledge  of 
fifty,  equally  sound.  Books  of  the  right  character  pro- 
duce reflection,  and  induce  investigation.  They  are  a 
mirror  of  mind,  for  mind  to  look  in.  Of  all  the  books- 
ever  written,  no  one  contains  so  instructive,  so  sublime,, 
and  so  great  a  variety,  as  the  Bible.  Resolve  to  read- 
three  chapters  each  day,  for  one  year,  and  you  will  find 
realities  there,  more  wonderful  than  any  pictures  of 
fiction,  that  have  been  drawn  by  the  finest  pencillings 
of  the  master  hand  of  the  most  practiced  novel  writer, 
who  has  shone  in  the  dazzling  galaxy  of  ancient  or 
modern  literature. 

The  advice  in  regard  to  reading  only  the  best  se- 
lected works,  leads  me  to  say,  read  slowly.  We  some- 
times rush  over  pages  of  valuable  matter,  because,  at 
a  glance,  they  seem  to  be  dull;  and  we  leap  along  to 
see  how  the  story,  if  it  be  a  story,  is  to  end.  We  do 
every  thing  in  this  age  in  a  hurry;  we  demand  not  only 
"fastr  horses,  but  fast  writers,  fast  preachers,  and  fast 
lecturers.    Said  a  noted  seaman's  preacher  in  one  of 


168 


BEADING. 


our  large  cities,  "I  work  in  a  hurry,  I  sleep  in  a  hurry, 
and,  if  I  ever  die,  I  expect  to  die  in  a  hurry."  This  is 
the  history  of  much  of  the  present  reading. 

No  one  can  too  highly  appreciate  the  magic  power  of 
the  press,  or  too  deeply  depricate  its  abuses.  News- 
papers have  become  the  great  highway  of  that  intelli- 
gence which  exerts  a  controlling  power  over  our  nation, 
catering  the  very-day  food  of  the  mind.  Show  us  an 
intelligent  family  of  boys  and  girls,  and  we  will  show  you 
a  family  where  newspapers  and  periodicals  are  plenty. 
Nobody  who  has  been  without  these  private  tutors  can 
know  their  educating  power  for  good  or  evil.  Have  you 
ever  thought  of  the  innumerable  topics  of  discussion 
which  they  suggest  at  the  breakfast  table ;  the  important 
public  measures  with  which,  thus  early  our  children 
become  acquainted ;  great  philanthropic  questions  of 
the  day,  to  which,  unconsciously,  their  attention  is 
awakened,  and  the  general  spirit  of  intelligence  which 
is  evoked  by  these  quiet  visitors  ?  Anything  that 
makes  home  pleasant,  cheerful  and  chatty,  thins  the 
haunts  of  vice  and  the  thousand  and  one  avenues  of 
temptation,  should  certainly  be  regarded,  when  we  con- 
sider its  influence  on  the  minds  of  the  young,  as  a  grea! 
social  and  moral  light. 

A  child  beginning  to  read  becomes  delighted  with  a 
newspaper,  because  he  reads  of  names  and  things 
which  are  familiar,  and  he  will  progress  accordingly. 
A  newspaper  in  one  year  is  worth  a  quarter's  schooling 
to  a  child.  Every  father  must  consider  that  informa- 
tion is  connected  with  advancement.  The  mother  of  a 
family,  being  one  of  its  heads,  and  having*  a  more 


READING. 


109 


immediate  charge  of  children,  should  herself  be  in- 
structed. A  mind  occupied  becomes  fortified  against 
the  ills  of  life,  and  is  braced  for  emergency.  Children 
amused  by  reading  or  study  are  of  course  more  consid- 
erate and  easily  governed. 

How  many  thoughtless  young  men  have  spent  their 
earnings  in  a  tavern  or  grog  shop  who  ought  to  have 
been  reading!  How  many  parents  who  have  not  spent 
twenty  dollars  for  books  for  their  families,  would  have 
given  thousands  to  reclaim  a  son  or  daughter  who  had 
ignorantly  or  thoughtlessly  fallen  into  temptation. 

Take  away  the  press,  and  the  vast  educating  power 
of  the  school  and  the  college  would  soon  come  to  an 
end.  Or,  look  one  moment  at  the  immense  influence  a 
single  writer  has  had  upon  an  age,  or  upon  the  world — 
Shakespeare  in  creating  the  drama,  or  Bacon  and  Des- 
cartes in  founding  different  systems  of  philosophy. 
Who  may  estimate  the  influence  of  Charles  Dickens 
upon  society,  when  by  the  magic  of  his  pen  he  touched 
the  under  world  of  poverty  and  want  and  sin,  over 
which  the  rich  and  the  gay  glided  on,  not  knowing  or 
thinking  what  was  beneath  their  feet,  and  marched  all 
this  ghastly  array  of  ragged  and  hungry  children  and 
sorrowful  women  and  discouraged  men,  and  the  fam- 
ished forms  from  the  poor-house,  and  the  ugly  visage 
of  the  criminal,  into  the  parlors  of  wealth  and  culture, 
and  there  had  them  tell  the  story  of  their  woes  and 
their  suffering?  Or  who  can  tell  the  influence  of  a 
McDonald,  or  a  Beecher,  or  an  Eggleston  in  entering 
the  wide  realm  of  romance  and  compelling  it  to  serve 
truth,  humanity  and  religion?     Or  who  knows  the 


170 


PERSE  VE  RANGE. 


influence  of  Thomas  Payne  and  Jefferson  in  strengthen- 
ing the .  cause  of  liberty  in  our  struggle  for  national 
independence  ?  Take  one  single  writer  of  our  own 
land — Mrs.  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe.  The  single  tale 
of  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  stirred  the  heart  of  this  vast 
nation  to  its  profoundest  depths.  At  the  simple  moving 
of  her  pen  millions  of  swords  and  bayonets  gleamed 
and  flashed  in  the  air,  and  vast  armies  met  in  deadly 
array  and  fought  face  to  face,  till  liberty,  re-baptized  in 
blood,  was  given  to  man  as  man.  This  vast  world 
moves  along  the  lines  of  thought  and  sentiment  and 
principle,  and  the  press  gives  to  these  wings  to  fly  and 
tongues  to  speak. 


Rev.  G.  S.  Weaver  says:  "Continual  dropping 
wears  a  stone.*"  So  persevering  labor  gains  our  objects. 
Perseverance  is  the  virtue  wanted,  a  lion-hearted  pur- 
pose of  victory.  It  is  this  that  builds,  constructs, 
accomplishes  whatever  is  great,  good,  and  valuable. 

Perseverance  built  the  pyramids  on  Egypt's  plains, 
erected  the  gorgeous  temple  at  Jerusalem,  reared  the 
seven -hilled  city,  inclosed  in  adamant  the  Chinese 
empire,  scaled  the  stormy,  cloud-capped  Alps,  opened  a 
highway  through  the  watery  wilderness  of  the  Atlantic, 
leveled  the  forests  of  a  new  world,  and  reared  in  its 
stead  a  community  of  states  and   nations.     It  has 


PERSE  VEBAMCE. 


171 


wrought  from  the  marble  block  the  exquisite  creations- 
of  genius,  painted  on  the  canvas  the  gorgeous  mimicry 
of  nature,  and  engraved  on  the  metallic  surface  the 
viewless  substance  of  the  shadow.  It  has  put  in  motion 
millions  of  spindles,  winged  as  many  flying  shuttles, 
harnessed  a  thousand  iron  steeds  to  as  many  freighted 
cars,  and  set  them  flying  from  town  to  town  and  nation, 
to  nation,  tunneled  mountains  of  granite  and  annihilated 
space  with  the  lightning's  speed.  It  has  whitened  the 
waters  of  the  world  with  the  sails  of  a  hundred  nations, 
navigated  every  sea  and  explored  every  land.  It  has 
reduced  nature  in  her  thousand  forms  to  as  many 
sciences,  taught  her  laws,  prophesied  her  future  move- 
ments, measured  her  untrodden  spaces,  counted  her 
myriad  hosts  of  worlds,  and  computed  their  distances,, 
dimensions,  and  velocities. 

But  greater  still  are  the  works  of  perseverance  in  the 
world  of  mind.  What  are  the  productions  of  science 
and  art  compared  with  the  splendid  achievements  won 
in  the  human  soul?  Wha^  is  a  monument  of  construc- 
tive genius,  compared  witn  the  living  domes  of  thought, 
the  sparkling  temples  of  virtue,  and  the  rich,  glory- 
wreathed  sanctuaries  of  religion,  which  perseverance 
has  wrought  out  and  reared  in  the  souls  of  the  good?" 
What  are  the  toil-sweated  productions  of  wealth  piled 
in  vast  profusion  around  a  Girard,  or  a  Rothschild., 
when  weighed  against  the  stores  of  wisdom,  the  treas- 
ures of  knowledge,  and  the  strength,  -beauty  and  glory 
with  which  this  victorious  virtue  has  enriched  and 
adorned  a  great  multitude  of  minds  during  the  march 
of  an  hundred  generations?  How  little  can  we  tell,  how 


172 


PERSEVERANCE. 


little  know,  the  brain-sweat,  the  heart-labor,  the  con- 
science-struggles which  it  cost  to  make  a  Newton,  a 
Howard,  or  a  Channing;  how  many  days  of  toil,  how 
many  nights  of  weariness,  how  many  months  and  years 
-••of  vigilant,  powerful  effort,  was  spent  to  perfect  in  them 
what  the  world  has  bowed  to  in  reverence.  Their 
words  have  a  power,  their  names  a  charm,  and  their 
deeds  a  glory.  How  came  this  wealth  of  soul  to  be 
theirs?  Why  are  their  names  watchwords  of  power 
;set  high  on  the  temple  of  fame?  Why  does  childhood 
lisp  them  in  reverence,  and  age  feel  a  thrill  of  pleasure 
when  they  are  mentioned? 

They  were  the  sons  of  perseverance — of  unremitting 
industry  and  toil.  They  were  once  as  weak  and  help- 
less as  any  of  us — once  as  destitute  of  wisdom,  virtue 
and  power  as  any  infant.  Once,  the  very  alphabet  of 
that  language  which  they  have  wielded  with  such 
magic  effect,  was  unknown  to  them.  They  toiled  long 
to  learn  it,  to  get  its  sounds,  understand  its  dependen- 
cies, and  longer  still  to  obtain  the  secret  of  its  highest 
charm  and  mightiest  power,  and  yet  even  longer  for 
those  living,  glorious  thoughts  which  they  bade  it  bear 
to  an  astonished  and  admiring  world.  Their  char- 
acters, which  are  now  given  to  the  world,  and  will  be 
to  millions  yet  unborn  as  patterns  of  greatness  and 
goodness,  were  made  by  that  untiring  perseverance 
which  marked  their  whole  lives.  From  childhood  to 
age  they  knew  no  such  word  as  fail.  Defeat  only  gave 
them  power;  difficulty  only  taught  them  the  necessity 
-of  redoubled  exertions;  dangers  gave  them  courage; 
the  sight  of  great  labors  inspired  in  them  correspond- 


PERSEVERANCE. 


ing  exertions.  So  it  has  been  with  all  men  and  all 
women  who  have  been  eminently  successful  in  any  pro 
fession  or  calling  in  life.  Their  success  has  been 
wrought  out  by  persevering  industry.  Successful  men 
owe  more  to  their  perseverance  than  to  their  natural 
powers,  their  friends,  or  the  favorable  circumstances 
around  them  Genius  will  falter  by  the  side  of  labor  ? 
great  powers  will  yield  to  great  industry.  Talent  is 
desirable,  but  perseverance  is  more  so.  It  will  make 
mental  powers,  or,  at  least,  it  will  strengthen  those 
already  made.  Yes,  it  will  make  mental  power.  The 
most  available  and  successful  kind  of  mental  power  is 
that  made  by  the  hand  of  cultivation. 

It  will  also  make  friends.  Who  will  not  befriend 
the  persevering,  energetic  youth,  the  fearless  man  of 
industry?  Who  is  not  a  friend  to  him  who  is  a  friend 
to  himself?  He  who  perseveres  in  business,  and  hard- 
ships, and  discouragements,  will  always  find  ready  and 
generous  friends  in  every  time  of  need.  He  who  per- 
severes in  a  course  of  wisdom,  rectitude,  and  benevo 
lence,  is  sure  to  gather  around  him  friends  who  will  be 
true  and  faithful.  Honest  industry  will  procure  friends 
in  any  community  and  any  part  of  the  civilized  world. 
Go  to  the  men  of  business,  of  worth,  of  influence,  and 
ask  them  who  shall  have  their  confidence  and  support. 
They  will  tell  you,  the  men  who  falter  not  by  the  way- 
side, who  toil  on  in  their  callings  against  every  barrier., 
whose  eye  is  bent  upward,  and  whose  motto  is  "Excel- 
sior." These  are  the  men  to  whom  they  give  their 
confidence.  But  they  shun  the  lazy,  the  indolent,  the 
fearful,  and  faltering.    They  would  as  soon  trust  the 


174 


PESEVERANCE. 


wind  as  such  men.  If  you  would  win  friends,  be  steady 
and  true  to  yourself;  be  the  unfailing  friend  of  your 
own  purposes,  stand  by  your  own  character,  and  others 
will  come  to  your  aid.  Though  the  earth  quake  and 
the  heavens  gather  blackness,  be  true  to  your  course 
and  yourself.  Quail  not,  nor  doubt  of  the  result;  vic- 
tory will  be  yours.  Friends  will  come.  A  thousand 
arms  of  strength  will  be  bared  to  sustain  you. 

First,  be  sure  that  your  trade,  your  profession,  your 
calling  in  life  is  a  good  one — one  that  God  and  good- 
ness sanctions;  then  be  true  as  steel  to  it.  Think  for 
it,  plan  for  it,  work  for  it,  live  for  it;  throw  in  your 
mind,  might,  strength,  heart,  and  soul  into  your  actions 
for  it,  and  success  will  crown  you  her  favored  child. 
No  matter  whether  your  object  be  great  or  small, 
whether  it  be  the  planting  of  a  nation  or  a  patch  of 
potatoes,  the  same  perseverance  is  necessary.  Every 
body  admires  an  iron  determination,  and  comes  to  the 
aid  of  him  who  directs  it  to  good. 

But  perseverance  will  not  only  make  friends,  but  it 
will  make  favorable  circumstances.  It  will  change  the 
face  of  all  things  around  us.  It  is  silly  and  cowardly 
to  complain  of  the  circumstances  that  are  against  us. 
Clouds  of  darkness,  evil  forebodings,  opposition,  ene- 
mies, barriers  of  every  kind,  will  vanish  before  a  stout 
heart  and  resolute  energy  of  soul.  The  Alps  stood 
between  Napoleon  and  Italy,  which  he  desired  to  con- 
quer. He  scaled  the  mountain  and  descended  upon  his 
prey.  His  startling  descent  more  than  half  conquered 
the  country.  He  forced  every  circumstance  into  his 
favor.    His  greatest  barrier  proved  a  sure  means  of 


PEIiSE  VE  RANGE. 


175 


victory.  A  conquered  enemy  is  often  the  readiest 
slave.  So  a  barrier  once  scaled  affords  a  vantage- 
ground  for  our  future  efforts.  Opposing  circumstances 
often  create  strength,  both  mental  and  physical.  Labor 
makes  us  strong.  Opposition  gives  us  greater  power 
of  resistance.  To  overcome  one  barrier  gives  us 
greater  ability  to  overcome  the  next.  It  is  cowardice 
to  grumble  about  circumstances.  Some  men  always 
talk  as  though  fate  had  woven  a  web  of  circumstances 
against  them,  and  it  is  useless  for  them  to  try  to  break 
through  it.  Out  upon  such  dastardly  whining!  It  is 
their  business  to  dash  on  in  pursuit  of  their  object 
against  everything.  Then  circumstances  will  gradually 
turn  in  their  favor,  and  they  will  deem  themselves  the 
favored  children  of  destiny. 

Look  at  nature.  She  has  a  voice,  which  is  the  voice 
of  God,  teaching  a  thousand  lessons  of  perseverance. 
The  lofty  mountains  are  wearing  down  by  slow  de- 
grees. The  ocean  is  gradually,  but  slowly,  filling  up, 
by  deposits  from  its  thousand  rivers.  The  Niagara 
Falls  have  worn  back  several  miles  through  the  hard 
limestone,  over  which  it  pours  its  thundering  columns 
of  water,  and  will  by-and-by  drain  the  great  lake  which 
feeds  its  boiling  chasm.  The  Red  Sea  and  whole 
regions  of  the  Pacific  ocean  are  gradually  filling  up  by 
the  labors  of  a  little  insect,  so  small  as  to  be  almost 
invisible  to  the  naked  eye.  These  stupendous  works 
are  going  on  before  our  eyes,  by  a  slow  but  sure  pro- 
cess. They  teach  a  great  lesson  of  perseverance. 
Nature  has  but  one  voice  on  this  subject,  that  is  "  per- 
severe."   God  has  but  one  voice,  that  is  "  persevere, " 


176 


PERSEVERANCE. 


and  duty  proclaims  the  same  lesson.  More  depends 
upon  an  active  perseverance  than  upon  genius.  Says  a 
common  sense  author  upon  this  subject,  "Genius,  unex- 
erted,  is  no  more  genius  than  a  bushel  of  acorns  is  a 
forest  of  oaks."  There  may  be  epics  in  men's  brains^ 
just  as  there  are  oaks  in  acorns,  but  the  tree  and  the 
bark  must  come  out  before  we  can  measure  them.  We 
very  naturally  recall  here  that  large  class  of  grumblers 
and  wishers,  who'  spend  their  time  in  longing  to  be 
higher  than  they  are,  while  they  should  have  been 
employed  to  advance  themselves.  These  bitterly  mor- 
alize on  the  injustice  of  society.  Do  they  want  a 
change  ?  Let  them  then  change !  Who  prevents  them  ? 
If  you  are  as  high  as  your  faculties  will  permit  you  to 
rise  in  the  scale  of  society,  why  should  you  complain 
of  men? 

It  is  God  that  arranged  the  law  of  precedence.  Im- 
plead Him  or  be  silent!  If  you  have  capacity  for  a 
higher  station,  take  it.  What  hinders  you?  How 
many  men  would  love  to  go  to  sleep  beggars  and  wake 
up  Rothschilds  or  Astors?  How  many  would  fain  go 
to  bed  dunces,  to  be  waked  up  Solomons?  You  reap 
what  you  have  sown.  Those  who  have  sown  dunce- 
seed,  vice-seed,  laziness-seed,  usually  get  a  crop.  They 
that  sow  the  wind  reap  a  whirlwind.  A  man  of  mere 
"  capacity  undeveloped  "  is  only  an  organized  degrada- 
tion with  a  shine  on  it.  A  flint  and  a  genius  that  will 
not  strike  fire  are  no  better  than  wet  junk-wood.  We 
have  Scripture  for  it,  that  "  a  living  dog  is  better  than 
a  dead  lion!"  If  you  would  go  up,  go — if  you  would 
be  seen,  shine.    At  the  present  day  eminent  position. 


PERSEVEllAtfCA 


177 


in  any  profession,  is  the  result  of  hard,  unwearied 
labor.  Men  ean  no  longer  fly  at  one  dash  into  eminent 
position.  They  have  got  to  hammer  it  out  by  steady 
and  rugged  blows.  The  world  is  no  longer  clay;  but 
rather  iron,  in  the  hands  of  its  workers. 

Work  is  the  order  of  this  day.  The  slow  penny  is 
surer  than  the  quick  dollar.  The  slow  trotter  will  out- 
travel  the  fleet  racer.  Genius  darts,  flutters,  and  tires; 
but  perseverance  wears  and  wins.  The  all-day  horse 
wins  the  race.  The  afternoon-man  wears  off  the  laurels* 
The  last  blow  finishes  the  nail. 

Men  must  learn  to  labor  and  to  wait,  if  they  would 
succeed.  Brains  grow  by  use  as  well  as  hands.  The 
greatest  man  is  the  one  who  uses  his  brains  the  most, 
who  has  added  most  to  his  natural  stock  of  power. 
Would  you  have  fleeter  feet  ?  Try  them  in  the  race. 
Would  you  have  stronger  minds?  Put  them  at  rational 
thinking.  They  will  grow  strong  by  action.  Would 
you  have  greater  success?  Use  greater  and  more 
rational  and  constant  efforts?  Does  competition  trouble 
you?  Work  away;  what  is  your  competitor  but  a 
man?  Are  you  a  coward,  that  you  shrink  from  the 
contest  ?  Then  you  ought  to  be  beaten.  Is  the  end  of 
your  labors  a  long  way  off?  Every  step  takes  you 
nearer  to*  it.  Is  it  a  weary  distance  to  look  at?  Ah, 
you  are  faint-hearted!  That  is  the  trouble  with  the 
multitude  of  youth.  Youth  are  not  so  lazy  as  they  are 
cowardly.  They  may  bluster  at  first,  but  they  won't 
"stick  it  out."  Young  farmer,  do  you  covet  a  home- 
stead, nice  and  comfortable,  for  yourself  and  that  sweet 
one  of  your  day-dreams?  What  hinders  tha*  you 
12 


178 


PLUCK. 


should  not  have  it?  Persevering  industry,  with  proper 
economy,  will  give  you  the  farm.  A  man  can  get 
what  he  wants  if  he  is  not  faint-hearted.  Toil  is  the 
price  of  success.  Learn  it,  young  farmer,  mechanic, 
student,  minister,  physician,  Christian.  Learn  it,  ye 
formers  of  character,  ye  followers  of  Christ,  ye  would 
be  men  and  women.  Ye  must  have  something  to  do, 
and  do  it  with  all  your  might.  Ye  must  harden  your 
hands  and  sweat  your  brains.  Ye  must  work  your 
nerves  and  strain  your  sinews.  Ye  must  be  at  it,  and 
always  at  it.  No  trembling,  doubting,  hesitating,  flying 
the  track.  Like  the  boy  on  the  rock,  ye  cannot  go 
back.  Onward  ye  must  go.  There  is  a  great  work 
for  ye  all  to  do,  a  deep  and  earnest  life-work,  solemn, 
real  and  useful.  Life  is  no  idle  game,  no  farce  to 
amuse  and  be  forgotten.  It  is  a  fixed  and  stern  reality, 
fuller  of  duties  than  the  sky  is  of  stars. 


There  is  seldom  a  line  of  glory  written  upon  the 
earth's  face  but  a  line  of  suffering  runs  parallel  with  it; 
and  they  that  read  the  lustrous  syllables  of  the  one, 
and  stop  not  to  decipher  the  spotted  and  worn  inscrip- 
tion of  the  other,  get  the  lesser  half  of  the  lesson  earth 
has  to  give. 

The  hopelessness  of  any  one's  accomplishing  any- 
thing without  pluck  is  illustrated  by  an  old  East  Indian 


PLUCK. 


179 


fable.  A  mouse  that  dwelt  near  the  abode  of  a  great 
magician  was  k  *.pt  in  such  constant  distress  by  its  fear 
of  a  cat,  that  <  Ue  magician,  taking  pity  on  it,  turned  it 
into  a  cat  i*  ,elf.  Immediately  it  began  to  surfer  from 
its  fear  of  a.  dog,  so  the  magician  turned  it  into  a  dog. 
Then  iJ:  began  to  suffer  from  fear  of  a  tiger,  and  the 
magician  turned  it  into  a  tiger.  Then  it  began  to  suffer 
from  its  fear  of  huntsmen,  and  the  magician,  in  disgust, 
said,  "Bea  mouse  again.  As  you  have  only  the  heart 
of  a  mouse,  it  is  impossible  to  help  you  by  giving  you 
the  body  of  a  nobler  animal."  And  the  poor  creature 
again  became  a  mouse. 

It  is  the  same  with  a  mouse-hearted  man.  He  may 
be  clothed  with  the  powers,  and  placed  in  the  position 
of  brave  men,  but  he  will  always  act  like  a  mouse ;  and 
public  opinion  is  usually  the  great  magician  that  finally 
says  to  such  a  person,  "Go  back  to  your  obscurity 
again.  You  have  only  the  heart  of  a  mouse,  and  it 
is  useless  to  try  to  make  a  lion  of  you." 

Many  depend  on  luck  instead  of  pluck.  The  P  left 
off  that  word  makes  all  the  difference.  The  English 
say  luck  is  all;  "it  is  better  to  be  born  lucky  than 
wise."  The  Spanish,  "The  worst  pig  gets  the  best 
acorn."  The  French,  "A  good  bone  never  falls  to  a 
good  dog."  The  German,  " Pitch  the  lucky  man  into 
the  Nile,  and  he  will  come  up  with  a  fish  in  his  mouth." 

Fortune,  success,  fame,  position  are  never  gained,  but 
bv  oiously,  determinedly,  bravely  sticking,  living  to  a 
thing  till  it  is  fairly  accomplished.  In  short,  you  must 
carry  a  thing  through  if  you  want  to  be  anybody  or 
anything.    No  matter  if  it  aoe^  cost  you  the  pleasure, 


ISO 


SELF-RELIANCE. 


the  society,  the  thousand  pearly  gratifications  of  life* 
No  matter  for  these.  Stick  to  the  thing  and  carry  it 
through.  Believe  you  were  made  for  the  matter,  and 
that  no  one  else  can  do  it.  Put  forth  your  whole  ener- 
gies. Be  awake,  electrify  yourself;  go  forth  to  the 
task.  Only  once  learn  to  carry  a  thing  through  in  all 
its  completeness  and  proportion,  and  you  will  become  a 
hero.  You  will  think  better  of  yourself;  others  will 
think  better  of  you.  The  world  in  its  very  heart 
admires  the  stern,  determined  doer.  It  sees  in  him  its 
best  sight,  its  brightest  object,  its  richest  treasure. 
Drive  right  along,  then,  in  whatever  you  undertake. 
Consider  yourself  amply  sufficient  for  the  deed  and  you 
will  succeed. 


God  never  intended  that  strong,  independent  beings 
should  be  reared  by  clinging  to  others,  like  the  ivy  to 
the  oak,  for  support.  The  difficulties,  hardships,  and 
trials  of  life — the  obstacles  one  encounters  on  the  road 
to  fortune — are  positive  blessings.  They  knit  his 
muscles  more  firmly,  and  teach  him  self-reliance,  just 
as  by  wrestling  with  an  athlete  who  is  superior  to  us, 
we  increase  our  own  strength,  and  learn  the  secret  of 
his  skill.  All  difficulties  come  to  us,  as  Bunyan  says, 
of  temptation,  like  the  lion  which  met  Samson;  the 
first  time  we  encounter  them  they  roar  and  gnash  their 


SELF-RELIANCE. 


181 


teeth,  but,  once  subdued,  we  find  a  nest  of  honey  in 
them.  Peril  is  the  very  element  in  which  power  is 
developed.  "Ability  and  necessity  dwell  near  each 
other,"  said  Pythagoras. 

The  greatest  curse  that  can  befall  a  young  man  is 
to  lean,  while  his  character  is  forming,  on  others  for 
support.  He  who  begins  with  crutches  will  generally 
end  with  crutches.  Help  from  within  always  strength- 
ens, but  help  from  without  invariably  enfeebles  its 
recipient.  It  is  not  in  the  sheltered  garden  or  the 
hot-house,  but  on  the  rugged  Alpine  cliffs,  where  the 
storms  beat  most  violently,  that  the  toughest  plants  are 
reared. 

The  oak  that  stands  alone  to  contend  with  the 
tempest's  blasts,  only  takes  deeper  root  and  stands 
the  firmer  for  ensuing  conflicts;  while  the  forest  tree, 
when  the  woodman's  ax  has  spoiled  its  surroundings, 
sways  and  bends  and  trembles,  and  perchance  is  up- 
rooted. So  it  is  with  men.  Those  who  are  trained 
to  self-reliance  are  ready  to  go  out  and  contend  in  the 
sternest  conflicts  of  life;  while  men  who  have  always 
leaned  for  support  on  those  around  them,  are  never 
prepared  to  breast  the  storms  of  adversity  that  arise. 

Many  a  young  man — and  for  that  matter,  many 
who  are  older — halts  at  his  outset  upon  life's  battle- 
field, and  falters  and  faints  for  what  he  conceives  to  be 
a  necessary  capital  for  a  start.  A  few  thousand  dollars, 
or  hundreds,  or  "something  handsome"  in  the  way  of 
money  in  his  purse,  he  fancies  to  be  about  the  only 
thing  needful  to  secure  his  fortune. 

The  best  capital,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  a  young 


182 


SELF-RELIANCE, 


man  can  start  in  the  world  with,  is  robust  health,  sound 
morals,  a  fair  intelligence,  a  w^ill  to  work  his  way  hon- 
estly and  bravely,  and  if  it  be  possible,  a  trade — 
whether  he  follows  it  for  a  livelihood  or  not.  He  can 
always  fall  back  upon  a  trade  when  other  paths  are 
closed.  Any  one  who  will  study  the  lives  of  memora- 
ble men — apart  from  the  titled,  or  hereditarily  great — - 
will  find  that  a  large  majority  of  them  rose  from  the 
ranks,  with  no  capital  for  a  start,  save  intelligence,, 
energy,  industry,  and  a  will  to  rise  and  conquer.  In 
the  mechanic  and  artizan  pursuits,  in  commerce,  in 
agriculture,  and  even  in  the  paths  of  literature,  science 
and  art,  many  of  the  greatest  names  sprung  from  pov- 
erty and  obscurity.  Dr.  Johnson  made  himself  illus- 
trious by  his  intellect  and  industry — so  did  Franklin^ 
and  so  have  multitudes  whose  memories  are  renowned. 

The  greatest  heroes  of  the  battle-field — as  Napo- 
leon, Hannibal,  Cromwell — some  of  the  greatest  states- 
men and  orators,  ancient  and  modern — as  Demosthenes,, 
Chatham,  Burke,  and  our  own  Webster  and  Clay — 
could  boast  no  patrician  advantages,  no  capital  in  goldr 
to  start  with.  The  grandest  fortunes  ever  accumu- 
lated or  possessed  on  earth  were  and  are,  the  fruit  of 
endeavor  that  had  no  capital  to  begin  with  save  en- 
ergy, intellect,  and  the  will.  From  Crcesus  down  to 
Astor,  the  story  is  the  same  —  not  only  in  the  getting 
of  wealth,  but  also  in  the  acquirement  of  various  emi- 
nence—  those  men  have  won  most,  who  relied  most 
upon  themselves. 

The  path  of  success  in  business  is  invariably  the  path 
of  common  sense.    Notwithstanding  all  that  is  said 


SELF-HE  LI ANCE. 


183 


about  "  lucky  hits,"  the  best  kind  of  success  in  every 
man's  life  is  not  that  which  comes  by  accident.  The 
only  "good  time  coming"  we  are  justified  in  hoping 
for,  is  that  which  we  are  capable  of  making  for  our- 
selves. The  fable  of  the  labors  of  Hercules  is  indeed 
the  type  of  all  human  doing  and  success.  Every  youth 
should  be  made  to  feel  that  if  he  would  get  through 
the  world  usefully  and  happily,  he  must  rely  mainly 
upon  himself  and  his  own  independent  energies.  Mak- 
ing a  small  provision  for  young  men  is  hardly  justifi- 
able; and  it  is  of  all  things  the  most  prejudicial  to 
themselves.  They  think  what  they  have  much  larger 
than  it  really  is;  and  they  make  no  exertion.  The 
young  should  never  hear  any  language  but  this:  "You 
have  your  own  way  to  make,  and  it  depends  upon  your 
own  exertions  whether  you  starve  or  not."  Outside 
help  is  your  greatest  curse.  It  handcuffs  effort,  stifles 
aspiration,  shuts  the  prison  door  upon  emulation,  turns 
the  key  on  energy. 

The  wisest  charity  is  to  help  a  man  to  help  himself. 
To  put  a  man  in  the  way  of  supporting  himself  gives 
him  a  new  lease  of  life,  makes  him  feel  young  again, 
for  it  is  very  many  times  all  the  sick  man  needs  to 
restore  him  to  perfect  health. 

People  who  have  been  bolstered  up  and  levered  all 
their  lives,  are  seldom  good  for  anything  in  a  crisis. 
When  misfortune  comes,  they  look  around  for  some- 
body to  cling  to,  or  lean  upon.  If  the  prop  is  not 
there,  down  they  go.  Once  down,  they  are  as  help- 
less as  capsized  turtles,  or  unhorsed  men  in  armor,  and 
they  can  not  find  their  feet  again  without  assistance. 


184 


SELF-RELIANCE. 


There  are  multitudes  of  such  men.  They  are  like 
summer  vines,  which  never  grow  even  ligneous,  but 
stretch  out  a  thousand  little  hands  to  grasp  the  stronger 
shrubs;  and  if  they  cannot  reach  them,  they  lie  dishev- 
elled in  the  grass,  hoof-trodden,  and  beaten  of  every 
storm.  It  will  be  found  that  the  first  real  movement 
upward  will  not  take  place,  until,  in  a  spirit  of  resolute 
self-denial,  indolence,  so  natural  to  almost  every  one,  is 
mastered.  Necessity  is,  usually,  the  spur  that  sets  the 
sluggish  energies  in  motion.  Poverty,  therefore,  is 
oftener  a  blessing  to  a  young  man  than  prosperity; 
for,  while  the  one  tends  to  stimulate  his  powers,  the 
other  inclines  them  to  languor  and  disuse.  But,  is  it 
not  very  discreditable  for  the  young  man,  who  is 
favored  with  education,  friends,  and  all  the  outside 
advantages  which  could  be  desired  as  means  to  worldly 
success,  to  let  those  who  stand  in  these  respects,  at  the 
beginning,  far  below  him,  gradually  approach  as  the 
steady  years  move  on,  and  finally  outstrip  him  in  the 
race?  It  is  not  only  discreditable,  but  disgraceful.  A 
man's  true  position  in  society,  is  that  which  he  achieves 
for  himself — he  is  worth  to  the  world  no  more,  no  less. 
As  he  builds  for  society  in  useful  work,  so  he  builds  for 
himself.  He  is  a  man  for  what  he  does,  not  for  what 
his  father  or  his  friends  have  done.  If  they  have  done 
well,  and  given  him  a  position,  the  deeper  the  shame, 
if  he  sink  down  to  a  meaner  level  through  self-indul- 
gence and  indolence. 

If  a  boy  is  not  trained  to  endure  and  to  bear  trouble, 
he  will  grow  up  a  girl;  and  a  boy  that  is  a  girl  has  all 
a  girl's  weakness  without  any  of  her  regal  qualities. 


LABOR. 


185 


A  woman  made  out  of  a  woman  is  God's  noblest  work; 
a  woman  made  out  of  a  man  is  his  meanest.  A  child 
rightly  brought  up  will  be  like  a  willow  branch,  which, 
broken  off  and  touching  the  ground,  at  once  takes  root. 
Bring  up  your  children  so  that  they  will  root  easily  in 
their  own  soil,  and  not  forever  be  grafted  into  your  old 
trunk  and  boughs. 


There  is  dignity  in  toil — in  toil  of  the  hand  as  well 
as  toil  of  the  head — in  toil  to  provide  for  the  bodily 
wants  of  an  individual  life,  as  well  as  in  toil  to  promote 
some  enterprise  of  world-wide  fame.  All  labor  that 
tends  to  supply  man's  wants,  to  increase  man's  happi- 
ness, to  elevate  man's  nature — an  a  word,  all  labor  that 
is  honest — is  honorable  too.  Labor  clears  the  forest, 
and  drains  the  morass,  and  makes  "the  wilderness 
rejoice  and  blossom  as  the  rose."  Labor  drives  the 
plow,  and  scatters  the  seeds,  and  reaps  the  harvest,  and 
grinds  the  corn,  and  converts  it  into  bread,  the  staff  of 
life.  Labor,  tending  the  pastures  and  sweeping  the 
waters  as  well  as  cultivating  the  soil,  provides  with 
daily  sustenance  the  nine  hundred  millions  of  the  family 
of  man.  Labor  gathers  the  gossamer  web  of  the  cat- 
erpillar, the  cotton  from  the  field,  and  the  fleece  from 
the  flock,  and  weaves  it  into  raiment  soft  and  warm 
and  beautiful,  the  purple  robe  of  the  prince  and  the 


186 


LABOR. 


gray  gown  of  the  peasant  being  alike  its  handiwork 
Labor  moulds  the  brick,  and  splits  the  slate,  and  quar- 
ries the  stone,  and  shapes  the  column,  and  rears  not 
only  the  humble  cottage,  but  the  gorgeous  palace,  and 
the  tapering  spire,  and  the  stately  dome.  Labor,  diving 
deep  into  the  solid  earth,  brings  up  its  long-hidden 
stores  of  coal  to  feed  ten  thousand  furnaces,  and  in 
millions  of  homes  to  defy  the  winter's  cold. 

Labor  explores  the  rich  veins  of  deeply-buried  rocks, 
extracting  the  gold  and  silver,  the  copper  and  tin. 
Labor  smelts  the  iron,  and  moulds  it  into  a  thousand 
shapes  for  use  and  ornament,  from  the  massive  pillar  to 
the  tiniest  needle,  from  the  ponderous  anchor  to  the 
wire  gauze,  from  the  mighty  fly-wheel  of  the  steam- 
engine  to  the  polished  purse-ring  or  the  glittering  bead. 
Labor  hews  down  the  gnarled  oak,  and  shapes  the 
timber,  and  builds  the  ship,  and  guides  it  over  the  deep? 
plunging  through  the  billows,  and  wrestling  with  the 
tempest,  to  bear  to  our  shores  the  produce  of  every 
clime.  Labor,  laughing  at  difficulties,  spans  majestic 
rivers,  carries  viaducts  over  marshy  swamps,  suspends 
bridges  over  deep  ravines,  pierces  the  solid  mountain 
with  the  dark  tunnel,  blasting  rocks  and  filling  hollows, 
and  while  linking  together  with  its  iron  but  loving 
grasp  all  nations  of  the  earth,  verifying,  in  a  literal 
sense,  the  ancient  prophecy,  "Every  valley  shall  be 
exalted,  and  every  mountain  and  hill  shall  be  brought 
low;"  labor  draws  forth  its  delicate  iron  thread,  and 
stretching  it  from  city  to  city,  from  province  to  prov- 
ince, through  mountains  and  beneath  the  sea,  realizes 
more  than  fancy  ever  fabled,  while  it  constructs  a 


LABOR. 


187 


chariot  on  which  speech  may  outstrip  the  wind,  and 
compete  with  lightning,  lor  the  telegraph  flies  as  rapidly 
as  thought  itself. 

Labor,  the  mighty  magician,  walks  forth  into  a 
region  uninhabited  and  waste ;  he  looks  earnestly  at  the 
scene,  so  quiet  in  its  desolation,  then  waving  his  wonder- 
working wand,  those  dreary  valleys  smile  with  golden 
harvests ;  those  barren  mountain-slopes  are  clothed  with 
foliage;  the  furnace  blazes;  the  anvil  rings;  the  busy 
wheel  whirls  round;  the  town  appears;  the  mart  of 
commerce,  the  hall  of  science,  the  temple  of  religion,, 
rear  high  their  lofty  fronts;  a  forest  of  masts,  gay  with 
varied  pennons,  rises  from  the  harbor;  representatives  * 
of  far-off  regions  make  it  their  resort;  science  enlists 
the  elements  of  earth  and  heaven  in  its  service;  art, 
awakening,  clothes  its  strength  with  beauty;  civiliza- 
tion smiles;  liberty  is  glad;  humanity  rejoices;  piety 
exults,  for  the  voice  of  industry  and  gladness  is  heard 
on  every  side.  Working  men  walk  worthy  of  your 
vocation!  You  have  a  noble  escutcheon;  disgrace  it 
not.  There  is  nothing  really  mean  and  low  but  sin. 
Stoop  not  from  your  lofty  throne  to  defile  yourselves 
by  contamination  with  intemperance,  licentiousness,  or 
any  form  of  evil.  Labor,  allied  with  virtue,  may  look 
up  to  heaven  and  not  blush,  while  all  worldly  dignities, 
prostituted  to  vice,  will  leave  their  owner  without  a 
corner  of  the  universe  in  which  to  hide  his  shame.  You 
will  most  successfully  prove  the  honor  of  toil  by  illus- 
trating in  your  own  persons  its  alliance  with  a  sober, 
righteous  and  godly  life.  Be  ye  sure  of  this,  that  the 
man  of  toil  who  works  in  a  spirit  of  obedient,  loving 


188 


LABOR. 


homage  to  God,  does  no  less  than  cherubim  and  ser& 
phim  in  their  loftiest  flights  and  holiest  songs. 

Labor  achieves  grander  victories,  it  weaves  more 
durable  trophies,  it  holds  wider  sway,  than  the  con- 
queror. His  name  becomes  tainted  and  his  monuments 
crumble;  but  labor  converts  his  red  battle-fields  into 
gardens,  and  erects  monuments  significant  of  better 
things.  It  rides  in  a  chariot  driven  by  the  wind.  It 
writes  with  the  lightning.  It  sits  crowned  as  a  queen 
in  a  thousand  cities,  and  sends  up  its  roar  of  triumph 
from  a  million  wheels.  It  glistens  in  the  fabric  of  the 
loom,  it  rings  and  sparkles  from  the  steely  hammer,  it 
glories  in  shapes  of  beauty,  it  speaks  in  words  of  power, 
it  makes  the  sinewy  arm  strong  with  liberty,  the  poor 
man's  heart  rich  with  content,  crowns  the  swarthy  and 
sweaty  brow  with  honor,  and  dignity,  and  peace. 

Don't  live  in  hope  with  your  arms  folded;  fortune 
smiles  on  those  who  roll  up  their  sleeves,  and  put  their 
shoulders  to  the  wheel.  You  cannot  dream  yourself 
into  a  character;  you  must  hammer  and  forge  yourself 
one.  To  love  and  to  labor  is  the  sum  of  living,  and 
yet  how  many  think  they  live  who  neither  love  or 
labor. 

The  man  and  woman  who  are  above  labor,  and  des- 
pise the  laborer,  show  a  want  of  common  sense,  and 
forget  that  every  article  that  is  used  is  the  product  of 
more  or  less  labor,  and  that  the  air  they  breathe,  and  the 
circulation  of  the  blood  in  the  veins,  is  the  result  of  the 
labor  of  the  God  of  nature.  The  time  was  when  kings 
and  queens  stimulated  their  subjects  to  labor  by  example. 
Queen  Mary  had  her  regular  hours  of  work,  and  had 


LABOR. 


18f> 


one  of  her  maids  of  honor  read  to  her  while  she  plied 
the  needle.  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  relates  a  cutting  reply 
made  to  him  by  the  wife  of  a  noble  duke,  at  whose 
house  he  lodged  over  night.  In  the  morning  he  heard 
her  give  directions  to  a  servant  relative  to  feeding  the 
pigs.  On  going  into  the  breakfast  room  he  jocosely 
asked  her  if  the  pigs  had  all  breakfasted.  "All,  sir,  but 
the  strange  pig  I  am  about  to  feed,"  was  the  witty  reply. 
Sir  Walter  was  mute,  and  walked  up  to  the  trough. 

The  noblest  thing  in  the  world  is  honest  labor.  It  is 
the  very  preservative  principle  of  the  universe.  Wise 
labor  brings  order  out  of  chaos;  it  turns  deadly  bogs 
and  swamps  into  grain-bearing  fields;  it  rears  cities;  it 
adorns  the  earth  with  architectural  monuments,  and 
beautifies  them  with  divinest  works  of  art;  it  whitens 
the  seas  with  the  wings  of  commerce;  it  brings  remote 
lands  into  mutual  and  profitable  neighborhood;  it  binds 
continents  together  with  the  fast-holding  bands  of  rail- 
roads and  telegraphs;  it  extinguishes  barbarism  and 
plants  civilization  upon  its  ruins;  it  produces  mighty 
works  of  genius  in  prose  and  verse,  which  gladden 
the  hearts  of  men  forever.  Work,  therefore,  with 
pride  and  gladness,  for  thereby  you  wall  be  united 
by  a  common  bond  with  all  the  best  and  noblest  who 
have  lived,  who  are  now  living,  and  who  shall  ever  be 
born. 

Washington  and  his  lady  were  examples  of  industry,, 
plainess,  frugality  and  economy — and  thousands  of 
others  of  the  wealthy,  labored  in  the  field  and  kitchen, 
in  older  times,  before  folly  superseded  wisdom,  and 
fashion  drove  common  sense  and  economy  off  the  track. 


190 


LABOR 


No  man  has  the  right  to  expect  a  good  fortune, 
unless  he  goes  to  work  and  deserves  it.  "Luck!"  cried 
a  self-made  man,"  I  never  had  any  luck  but  by  getting 
up  at  five  every  morning  and  working  as  hard  as  I 
could."  No  faithful  workman  finds  his  task  a  pastime. 
We  must  all  toil  or  steal — no  matter  how  we  name 
•our  stealing.  A  brother  of  the  distinguished  Edmund 
Burke  was  found  in  a  reverie  after  listening  to  one  of 
his  most  eloquent  speeches  in  Parliament,  and  being 
asked  the  cause,  replied,  "  I  have  been  wondering  how 
Ned  has  contrived  to  monopolize  all  the  talents  of  aie 
family;  but  then  I  remember,  when  we  were  ?':  play  he 
was  always  at  work." 

The  education,  moral  and  intellectu/  i,  of  every  indi- 
vidual must  be  chiefly  his  own  work  How  else  could 
it  happen  that  young  men,  who  h-°  » e  had  precisely  the 
same  opportunities,  should  be  co1  tinually  presenting  us 
with  such  different  results,  and  •  ashing  to  such  opposite 
destinies?  Difference  of  talent  Arill  not  solve  it,  because 
that  difference  is  very  often  in  favor  of  the  disappointed 
candidate. 

You  will  see  issuing  from  the  walls  of  the  same  col- 
lege— nay,  sometimes  from  tha  bosom  of  the  same 
family — two  young  men,  of  whom  the  one  shall  be 
admitted  to  be  a  genius  of  high  ?rder,  the  other 
scarcely  above  the  point  of  mediocrity;  yc  ~*ou  shall 
see  the  genius  sinking  and  perishing  in  poverty,  obscu- 
rity and  wretchedness,  while,  on  the  other  hand,  you 
shall  observe  the  mediocre  plodding  his  slow  but  sure 
way  up  the  hill  of  life,  gaining  steadfast  footing  at 
every  step,  and  mounting,  at  length,  to  eminence  and 


LABOR 


191 


distinction — an  ornament  to  his  family  a  blessing  to 
his  country, 

Now,  whose  work  is  this?  Manifestly  their  own. 
Men  are  the  architects  of  their  respective  fortunes.  It 
is  the  fiat  of  fate  from  which  no  power  of  genius  can 
absolve  you.  Genius,  unexerted,  is  like  the  poor  moth 
that  flutters  around  a  candle  till  it  scorches  itself  to 
death. 

It  is  tnis  capacity  for  high  and  long  continued  exer- 
tion, this  vigorous  power  of  profound  and  searching 
investigation,  this  careering  and  wide-spreading  com- 
prehension of  mind,  and  those  long  reaches  of  thought, 
that 

"  Pluck  bright  honor  from  the  pale-faced  moon, 
Or  dive  into  the  bottom  of  the  deep, 
Where  fathom  line  could  never  touch  the  ground, 
And  drag  up  drowned  honor  by  the  locks." 

What  we  have  seen  of  men  and  of  the  world  con- 
vinces us  that  one  of  the  first  conditions  of  enjoying  life 
is  to  have  something  to  do,  something  great  enough  to 
rouse  the  mind  and  noble  enough  to  satisfy  the  heart, 
and  then  to  give  our  mind  and  heart,  our  thought  and 
toil  and  affections  to  it,  to  labor  for  it,  in  the  fine  words 
of  Robert  Hall,  "with  an  ardor  bordering  on  enthu- 
siasm," or,  as  a  yet  greater  sage  expresses  it,  to  "do  it 
with  all  our  mighty 

A  life  of  full  and  constant  employment  is  the  only 
safe  and  happy  one.  If  we  suffer  the  mind  and  body 
to  be  unemployed,  our  enjoyments,  as  well  as  our 
labors,  will  be  terminated,,    One  of  the  minor  uses  of 


192 


LABOR. 


steady  employment  is,  that  it  keeps  one  out  ol  mischief, 
for  truly  an  idle  brain  is  the  devil's  workshop,  and  a 
ls~y  man  the  devil's  bolster.  To  be  occupied  is  to  be 
possessed  as  by  a  tenant,  whereas  to  be  idle  is  to  be 
empty;  and  when  the  doors  of  the  imagination  are 
opened,  temptation  finds  a  ready  access,  and  evil 
thoughts  come  trooping  in.  It  is  observed  at  sea  th^t 
men  are  never  so  much  disposed  to  grumble  and  mutiny 
as  when  least  employed.  Hence  an  old  captain,  when 
there  was  nothing  else  to  do,  would  issue  the  order  to 
"scour  the  anchor" 

Labor,  honest  labor,  is  mighty  and  beautiful.  Activ- 
ity is  the  ruling  element  of  life,  and  its  highest  relish 
Luxuries  and  conquests  are  the  result  of  labor;  we  can 
imagine  nothing  without  it.  The  noblest  man  of  earth 
is  he  who  puts  his  hands  cheerfully  and  proudly  to  honest 
labor.  Labor  is  a  business  and  ordinance  of  God. 
Suspend  labor,  and  where  are  the  glory  and  pomp  of 
earth — the  fruit,  fields,  and  palaces,  and  the  fashioning 
of  matter  for  which  men  strive  and  war?  Let  the 
labor  -  scorner  look  to  himself  and  learn  what  are  the 
trophies.  From  the  crown  of  his  head  to  the  sole  of 
his  foot,  he  is  the  debtor  and  slave  of  toil.  The  labor 
which  he  scorns  has  tricked  him  into  the  stature  and 
appearance  of  a  man.  Where  gets  he  garmenting  and 
equipage?  Let  labor  answer.  Labor — which  makes 
music  in  the  mines  and  the  furrow  and  the  forge — oh, 
scorn  not  labor,  you  man  who  never  yet  earned  a 
morsel  of  bread!  Labor  pities  you,  proud  fool,  and 
laughs  you  to  scorn.  You  shall  pass  to  dust,  forgotten; 
but  labor  will  live  on  forever,  glorious  in  its  conquests 
and  monuments. 


ENEHO  Y. 


193 


The  longer  we  live  the  more  we  are  certain  the 
great  difference  between  men — between  the  feeble  and 
the  powerful,  the  great  and  the  insignificant,  is  energy; 
invincible  determination — a  purpose,  once  fixed,  and 
then  death  or  victory!  That  quality  will  do  anything 
that  can  be  done  in  this  world;  and  no  talents,  no  cir- 
cumstances, no  opportunities,  will  make  a  two-legged 
creature  a  man  without  it. 

Never  suffer  your  energies  to  stagnate.  There  is  no 
genius  of  life  like  the  genius  of  energy  and  industry. 
All  the  traditions  current  among  very  young  men  that 
certain  great  characters  have  wrought  their  greatness 
by  an  inspiration,  as  it  were,  grows  out  of  a  sad  mis- 
take. There  are  no  rivals  so  formidable  as  those 
earnest,  determined  minds,  which  reckon  the  value  of 
every  hour,  and  which  achieve  eminence  by  persistent 
application. 

The  difference  between  one  boy  and  another  consists 
not  so  much  in  talent  as  in  energy.  Provided  the 
dunce  has  persistency  and  application,  he  will  inevitably 
head  the  cleverer  fellow  without  these  qualities,  Slow 
but  sure  wins  the  race.  It  is  perseverance  that  explains 
how  the  position  of  boys  at  school  is  often  reversed  in 
real  life;  and  it  is  curious  to  ncte  how  some  who  were 
then  so  clever  have  since  become  so  common  place, 
whilst  others,  dull  boys,  of  whom  nothing  was  expected, 
slow  in  their  faculties,  but  sure  in  their  pace,  have 
assumed  the  position  of  leaders  of  mea  We  recollect 
13 


194 


ENERGY. 


that  when  a  boy  we  stood  in  the  same  class  with  one  of 
the  greatest  of  dunces.  One  teacher  after  another  had 
tried  his  skill  upon  him  and  failed.  Corporeal  punish- 
ment, the  fools -cap,  coaxing,  and  earnest  entreaty, 
proved  alike  fruitless.  Sometimes  the  experiment  was 
tried  of  putting  him  at  the  top  of  his  class,  and  it  was 
curious  to  note  the  rapidity  with  which  he  gravitated 
to  the  inevitable  bottom,  like  a  lump  of  lead  passing 
through  quicksilver.  The  youth  was  given  up  by 
many  teachers  as  an  incorrigible  dunce — one  of  them 
pronouncing  him  to  be  "a  stupendous  booby."  Yet, 
slow  though  he  was,  this  dunce  had  a  dull  energy  and  a 
sort  of  beefy  tenacity  of  purpose,  which  grew  with  his 
muscles  and  his  manhood;  and,  strange  to  say,  when 
he  at  length  came  to  take  part  in  the  practical  business 
of  life,  he  was  found  heading  most  of  his  school  com- 
panions, and  eventually  left  the  greater  number  of  them 
far  behind.  The  tortoise  in  the  right  road  will  beat  a 
racer  in  the  wrong.  It  matters  not  though  a  youth  be 
slow,  if  he  be  but  diligent.  Quickness  of  parts  may 
even  prove  a  defect,  inasmuch  as  the  boy  who  learns 
readily  will  often  forget  quite  as  readily ;  and  also 
because  he  finds  no  need  of  cultivating  that  quality  of 
application  and  perseverance  which  the  slower  youth 
is  compelled  to  exercise,  and  which  proves  so  valuable 
an  element  in  the  formation  of  every  character.  The 
highest  culture  is  not  obtained  from  teachers  when  at 
school  or  college,  so  much  as  by  our  own  diligent  self- 
education  when  we  have  become  men.  Parents  need 
not  be  in  too  great  haste  to  see  their  children's  talents 
forced  into  bloom.    Let  them  watch  and  wait  patiently, 


ENERGY. 


195 


letting  good  example  and  quiet  training  do  their  work, 
and  leave  the  rest  to  Providence.  Let  them  see  to  it 
that  the  youth  is  provided,  by  free  exercise  of  his  bodily 
powers,  with  a  full  stock  of  physical  health;  set  him 
fairly  on  the  road  of  self-culture;  carefully  train  his 
habits  of  application  and  perseverance;  and  as  he  grows 
older,  if  the  right  stuff  be  in  him,  he  will  be  enabled 
vigorously  and  effectively  to  cultivate  himself. 

He  who  has  heart  has  everything;  and  who  doth  not 
burn  doth  not  inflame.  It  is  astonishing  how  much 
may  be  accomplished  in  self-culture  by  the  energetic 
and  the  persevering,  who  are  careful  to  avail  them- 
selves of  opportunities,  and  use  up  the  fragments  of 
spare  time  which  the  idle  permit  to  run  to  waste.  In 
study  as  in  business,  energy  is  the  great  thing.  We 
must  not  only  strike  the  iron  while  it  is  hot,  but  strike 
it  until  it  is  made  hot. 

Give  us  not  men  like  weathercocks,  that  change  with 
every  wind,  but  men  like  mountains,  who  change  the 
winds  themselves.  There  is  always  room  for  a  man  of 
force,  and  he  makes  room  for  many.  You  cannot 
dream  yourself  into  a  character;  you  must  hammer 
and  forge  yourself  one.  Therefore  don't  live  in  hope 
with  your  arms  folded;  fortune  smiles  on  those  who 
roll  up  their  sleeves  and  put  their  shoulders  to  the 
wheel.  "I  can't!  it  is  impossible!"  said  a  foiled  lieuten- 
ant to  Alexander.  "Begone!"  shwuted  the  conquering 
Macedonian  in  reply — "there  is  nothing  impossible  to 
him  who  will  try;"  and  to  make  good  his  words,  the 
haughty  warrior,  not  yet  come  to  weep  that  there  were 
no  more  worlds  to  subdue,  charged  with  a  phalanx  the 


196 


LUGE  AND  PLUCK. 


rock-crested  fortress  that  had  defied  his  timid  subal- 
tern, and  the  foe  were  swept  down  as  with  the  besom 
of  destruction. 

A  man's  character  is  seen  in  small  matters;  and 
from  even  so  slight  a  test  as  the  mode  in  which  a  man 
wields  a  hammer,  his  energy  may  in  some  measure  be 
inferred,  Thus  an  eminent  Frenchman  hit  off  in  a 
single  phrase  the  characteristic  quality  of  the  inhabit- 
ants of  a  particular  district,  in  which  a  friend  of  his 
proposed  to  buy  land  and  settle.  "Beware,"  said  he, 
"of  making  a  purchase  there;  I  know  the  men  of  that 
department;  the  pupils  who  come  from  it  to  our  veter- 
inary school  at  Paris,  do  not  strike  hard  ufton  the  anvil; 
they  want  energy;  and  you  will  not  get  a  satisfactory 
return  on  any  capital  you  may  invest  there."  A  fine 
and  just  appreciation  of  character,  indicating  the  accu- 
rate and  thoughtful  observer;  and  strikingly  illustrative 
of  the  fact  that  it  is  the  energy  of  the  individual  men 
that  gives  strength  to  a  state,  and  confers  a  value  even 
upon  the  very  soil  which  they  cultivate. 

It  is  a  Spanish  maxim,  that  he  who  loseth  wealth, 
loseth  much;  he  who  loseth  a  friend,  loseth  more;  but 
he  who  loseth  his  energies,  loseth  all. 


Young  man,  your  success  or  your  failure,  your  weal 
or  woe  of  life  will  hang  largely  :n  the  manner  in  which 
you  treat  these  two  words. 


LUCK  AND  PLUCK. 


197 


Rev.  G.  S.  Weaver  says:  "The  word  luck  is  sug- 
gestive of  a  want  of  law."  This  idea  has  passed  into 
many  common  proverbs,  such  as  these:  "It  is  more 
by  hit  than  good  wit;"  "It  is  as  well  to  be  born  lucky 
as  rich;"  "Fortune  is  a  fickle  jade;"  "Risk  nothing, 
win  nothing;"  and  more  of  a  similar  import,  all  ignoring 
the  grand  rule  of  law  and  resting  upon  the  atheistical 
idea  of  chance. 

Our  fathers  were  good,  religious  people,  and  did  not 
mean  to  foster  atheism  when  they  talked  about  luck, 
and  gave  a  half-way  assent  to  its  Godless  reality.  If 
the  universe  were  an  infinite  chaos;  if  order  had  no 
throne  in  its  wide  realm;  if  universal  law  were  a  fable 
of  fancy;  if  God  were  a  Babel,  or  the  world  a  Pan- 
demonium, there  might  be  such  a  thing  as  luck.  But 
while  [from  the  particle  to  the  globe, >  from  the  animal- 
cule to  the  archangel,  there  is  not  a  being  or  a  thing,  a 
time  or  an  event  J)  disconnected  with  the  great  govern- 
ment of  eternal  law  and  order,  we  cannot  see  how  such 
a  game  of  chance  as  the  word  luck  supposes  can  be 
admitted  into  any  corner  of  the  great  world.  Luck! 
What  is  it?  A  lottery?  A  hap-hazard?  A  frolic  of 
gnomes?  A  blind -man's -bluff  among  the  laws?  A 
ruse  among  the  elements?  A  trick  of  dame  Nature? 
Has  any  scholar  defined  luck,  any  philosopher  explained 
its  nature,  any  chemist  shown  us  its  elements?  j  Is  luck 
that  strange,  nondescript  unmateriality  that  does  all 
things  among  men  that  they  cannot  account  for  ?  If 
so,  why  does  not  luck  make  a  fool  speak  words  of  wis- 
dom; an  ignoramus  utter  lectures  on  philosophy;  a 
stupid  dolt  write  the  great  works  of  music  and  poetry; 


198 


LUCK  AND  PLUCK. 


a  double-fingered  dummy  create  the  beauties  of  art,  or 
an  untutored  savage  the  wonders  of  mechanism? 

If  we  should  go  into  a  country  where  the  sluggard's 
farm  is  covered  with  the  richest  grains  and  fruits,  and 
where  industry  is  rewarded  only  with  weeds  and 
brambles:  where  the  drunkard  looks  sleek  and  beauti- 
ful, and  his  home  cheerful  and  happy,  while  temperance 
wears  the  haggard  face  and  eats  the  bread  of  want  and 
misery;  where  labor  starves,  while  idleness  is  fed  and 
grows  fat;  where  common  sense  is  put  upon  the  pillory,, 
while  twaddle  and  moonshine  are  raised  to  distinction; 
where  genius  lies  in  the  gutter  and  ignorance  soars  to 
the  skies;  where  virtue  is  incarcerated  in  prison,  while 
vice  is  courted  and  wooed  by  the  sunlight,  we  might 
possibly  be  led  to  believe  that  luck  had  something  to  do 
there.  But  where  we  see,  as  we  everywhere  do  in  our 
world,  the  rewards  of  industry,  energy,  wisdom  and 
virtue  constant  as  the  warmth  in  sunlight  or  beauty  in 
flowers,  we  must  deny  in  toto  the  very  existence  of  this 
good  and  evil  essence  which  men  have  called  luck. 

Was  it  luck  that  gave  Girard  and  Astor,  Rothschild 
and  Gray  their  vast  wealth?  Was  it  luck  that  won 
victories  for  Washington,  Wellington  and  Napoleon? 
Was  it  luck  that  carved  Venus  de  Medici,  that  wrote 
the  "^Eneid,"  "Paradise  Lost,"  and  "Festus?"  Was. 
it  luck  that  gave  Morse  his  telegraph,  or  Fulton  his 
steamboat,  or  Franklin  the  lightning  for  his  plaything? 
Is  it  luck  that  gives  the  merchant  his  business,  the 
lawyer  his  clients,  the  minister  his  hearers,  the  phy- 
sician his  patients,  the  mechanic  his  labor,  the  farmer 
his  harvest  ?    Na}T,  verily.    No  man  believes  it.  And 


LUCK  AND  PLUCK. 


199 


yet  many  are  the  men  who  dream  of  luck,  as  though 
such  a  mysterious  spirit  existed,  and  did  sometimes 
humor  the  whims  of  visionary  cowards  and  drones. 

Many  are  the  young  men  who  waste  the  best  part  of 
their  lives  in  attempts  to  woo  this  coy  maid  into  their 
embraces.  They  enter  into  this,  or  that,  or  the  other 
speculation,  with  the  dreamy  hope  that  luck  will  pay 
them  a  smiling  visit.  Some  go  to  California,  or  Aus- 
tralia, or  the  "  Far  West,"  or  to  the  torrid  or  the  frigid 
zone,  or  some  wondrous  away -off  place,  with  no  fair 
prospect  or  hope  of  success  from  their  own  energies 
and  exertions,  but  depending  almost  wholly  on  a  gentle 
smile  from  capricious  luck.  Poor  fellows!  they  find 
that  luck  does  not  get  so  far  from  home. 

Some,  less  daring  and  more  lazy,  loiter  about  home, 
drawl  around  town,  or  loll  through  the  country,  whose 
only  trust  or  expectation  is  in  a  shuffle  of  luck  in  their 
favor.  They  know  they  deserve  nothing,  yet,  with  an> 
impudence  hard  as  brass,  they  will  pray  to  luck  for  a 
"windfall,"  or  a  "fat  office,"  or  a  "living,"  and  fool- 
ishly wait  for  an  answer.  These  are  the  men  that 
make  your  gamblers,  your  house  thieves,  your  counter- 
feiters, your  gentlemen  loafers.  They  are  not  men  that 
originally  mean  any  harm.  But  they  believe  in  luck,, 
and  their  trust  is  in  luck,  and  they  are  going  to  have  it 
out  of  luck  some  way.  They  despised  meanness  at 
first,  perhaps,  as  much  as  you  and  I  do;  but  somebody 
told  them  of  luck,  and  they  believed,  and  lo !  they  got 
duped.  Little  by  little  they  went  over  to  meanness, 
waiting  all  the  while  for  a  shake  of  the  hand  from  luck. 

Some  of  the  believers  in  luck,  of  more  moral  firm 


200 


LUCK  AND  PLUCK. 


ness,  dally  with  all  life's  great  duties,  and  so  do  about 
the  same  as  nothing,  and  eat  the  bread  of  disappoint- 
ment. They  do  a  little  at  this  business,  and  luck  does 
not  smile.  They  do  a  little  at  that,  still  luck  keeps 
away.  They  do  a  little  at  something  else,  they  hear 
not  a  foot-fall  from  luck.  And  so  they  fritter  away 
time  and  life.  These  are  the  do-littles.  Hard-work- 
ing  men  they  ai  e  frequently.  It  is  with  them  as  though 
they  had  started  to  go  to  a  place  a  thousand  miles  dis- 
tant, leading  to  which  there  were  many  roads.  They 
set  out  at  full  speed  on  one  road,  go  a  few  miles,  and 
get  tired,  and  so  conclude  to  turn  back  and  try  another 
And  so  they  try  one  road  after  another,  each  time 
returning  to  the  starting-place.  In  a  little  while  it  is 
too  late  to  get  there  at  the  appointed  time,  and  so  they 
mope  along  any  road  they  happen  to  be  on  till  the  day 
Is  over. 

They  crave  a  good  they  do  not  earn;  they  pray  to 
luck  to  give  what  does  not  belong  to  them;  their  whole 
inward  life  is  a  constant  craving  wish  for  something  to 
which  they  have  no  just  claim.  It  is  a  morbid,  fever- 
ish covetousness,  which  ,  is  very  apt  to  end  in  the  con- 
clusion, "  The  world  owes  me  a  living,  and  a  living  I'll 
have,"  and  so  they  go  out  to  get  a  living  as  best  they 
may.  They  fancy  that  every  rich  and  honored  man 
has  got  his  good  by  some  turn  of  luck,  and  hence  they 
feel  that  he  has  no  special  right  to  his  property  or  his 
honors,  and  so  they  will  get  either  from  him  if  they 
can.  They  look  upon  the  world,  not  as  a  great  hive 
of  industry,  where  men  are  rewarded  according  to 
their  labors  and  merits3  but  as  a  grand  lottery,  a  mag- 


LUCK  AND  PLUCK. 


201 


nificent  scheme  of  chance,  in  which  fools  and  idlers 
have  as  fair  a  show  as  talent  and  labor. 

In  my  humble  opinion,  this  philosophy  of  luck  is  at 
the  bottom  of  more  ^dishonesty,  wickedness,  and  moral 
corruption  than  any  thing  else.  It  sows  its  seeds  in 
youthful  minds  just  at  that  visionary  season  when  judg- 
ment has  not  been  ripened  by  experience  nor  imagin- 
ation corrected  by  wisdom.  And  it  takes  more  minds 
from  the  great  school-house  of  useful  life,  and  more 
arms  from  the  great  workshop  of  human  industry,  than 
any  other  one  thing  to  which  my  mind  reverts.  It  is 
a  moral  palsy,  against  which  every  just  man  should 
arm  himself.    The  cure  of  the  evil  is  found  in  pluck. 

It  is  not  luck,  but  pluck,  which  weaves  the  web  of 
life;  it  is  not  luck,  but  pluck,  which  turns  the  wheel  of 
fortune.  It  is  pluck  that  amasses  wealth,  that  crowns 
men  with  honors,  that  forges  the  luxuries  of  life.  I 
use  the  term  pluck  as  synonymous  with  whole-hearted 
energy,  genuine  bravery  of  soul. 

That  man  is  to  be  pitied  who  is  too  fearful  and  cow- 
ardly to  go  out  and  do  battle  for  an  honest  living  and 
a  competence  in  the  great  field  of  human  exertion. 
He  is  the  man  of  luck,  bad  luck.  Poor  fellow!  He 
lost  his  luck  when  he  lost  his  pluck.  Good  pluck  is 
good  luck.  Bad  pluck  is  bad  luck.  Many  a  man  has 
lost  his  luck,  but  never  while  he  had  good  pluck  left. 
Men  lose  their  luck  by  letting  their  energies  eke 
through  bad  habits  and  unwise  projects.  One  man 
loses  his  luck  in  his  late  morning  naps,  another  in  his 
late  evening  hours.  One  loses  his  luck  in  the  bar-room, 
another  in  the  ball-room;  one  down  by  the  river  hold- 


20? 


LUCK  AND  PLUCK. 


ing  the  boyish  fishing-rod,  another  in  the  woods  chasing 
down  the  innocent  squirrel.  One  loses  his  luck  in  folly, 
one  in  fashion,  one  in  idleness,  one  in  high  living,  one 
in  dishonesty,  one  in  brawls,  one  in  sensualism,  and  a 
great  many  in  bad  management.  Indeed,  bad  manage- 
ment is  at  the  bottom  of  nearly  all  bad  luck.  It  is  bad 
management  to  train  up  a  family  of  bad  habits,  to  eat 
out  one's  living  and  corrupt  his  life.A  It  is  bad  manage- 
ment to  drink  liquor,  and  eat  tobacco,  and  smoke,  and 
swear,  and  tattle,  and  visit  soda-fountains,  and  cream 
saloons,  and  theatres,  and  brothels,  and  live  high,  and 
chase  after  the  fashions,  and  fret  and  scold,  and  get 
angry,  and  abuse  people,  and  mind  other  people's 
business  and  neglect  one's  own.  It  is  bad  manage- 
ment to  expose  one's  health  or  overtax  one's  powers, 
and  get  sick,  and  take  drugs  to  get  well ;  to  be  idle  or 
extravagant,  or  mean  or  dishonest.  All  these  things 
tend  to  bring  that  evil  genius  which  men  call  bad  luck. 

Indeed,  there  is  hardly  a  word  in  the  vocabulary 
which  is  more  cruelly  abused  than  the  word  "  luck." 
To  all  the  faults  and  failures  of  men,  their  positive  sins 
and  their  less  culpable  short-comings,  it  is  made  to 
stand  a  godfather  and  sponsor.  We  are  all  Micawbers 
at  heart,  fancying  that  "something"  will  one  day 
aturn  up"  for  our  good,  for  which  we  have  never 
striven. 

An  unskillful  commander  sometimes  wins  a  victory; 
and  again  a  famous  warrior  finds  himself,  "after  a 
hundred  victories,  foiled."  Some  of  the  skillfulest 
sea-captains  lose  every  ship  they  sail  in;  others,  less 
experienced,  never  lose  a  spar.    Some  men's  houses 


LUCE  AND  PLUCK. 


203 


take  fire  an  hour  after  the  insurance  expires;  others 
never  insure,  and  never  are  burned  out.  Some  of  the 
shrewdest  men,  with  indefatigable  industry  and  the 
closest  economy,  fail  to  make  money;  others,  with 
apparently  none  of  the  qualities  that  insure  success, 
are  continually  blundering  into  profitable  speculations, 
and,  Midas-like,  touch  nothing  but  it  turns  to  gold. 
Beau  Brummell,  with  his  lucky  sixpence  in  his  pocket, 
wins  at  every  gaming-table,  and  bags  £40,000  in  the 
clubs  of  London  and  Newmarket. 

So  powerfully  does  fortune  appear  to  sway  the  desti- 
nies of  men,  putting  a  silver  spoon  into  one  man's 
mouth,  and  a  wooden  one  into  another's,  that  some 
of  the  most  sagacious  of  men,  as  Cardinal  Mazarin 
and  Rothschild,  seem  to  have  been  inclined  to  regard 
luck  as  the  first  element  of  worldly  success;  expe 
rience,  sagacity,  energy,  and  enterprise  as  nothing,  if 
linked  to  an  unlucky  star.  Whittington,  and  his  cat 
that  proved  such  -a  source  of  riches;  the  man  who, 
worn  out  by  a  painful  disorder,  attempted  suicide,  and 
was  cured  by  opening  an  internal  imposthume;  the 
Persian,  condemned  to  lose  his  tongue,  on  whom  the 
operation  was  so  bunglingly  performed  that  it  merely 
removed  an  impediment  in  his  speech;  the  painter  who 
produced  an  effect  he  had  long  toiled  after  in  vain,  by 
throwing  his  brush  at  the  picture  in  a  fit  of  rage  and 
despair;  the  musical  composer,  who,  having  exhausted 
his  patience  in  attempts  to  imitate  on  the  piano  a  storm 
at  sea,  accomplished  the  precise  result  by  angrily  ex- 
tending his  hands  to  the  two  extremities  of  the  keys, 
and  bringing  them  rapidly  together  —  all  these  seem  to 


204 


LUCK  AND  PLUCK. 


many  fit  types  of  the  freaks  of  fortune  by  which  some 
men  are  enriched  or  made  famous  by  their  blunders, 
while  others,  with  ten  times  the  capacity  and  knowl- 
edge, are  kept  at  the  bottom  of  her  wheel.  Hence  we 
see  thousands  fold  their  arms  and  look  with  indiffer- 
ence on  the  great  play  of  life,  keeping  aloof  from  its 
finest  and  therefore  most  arduous  struggles,  because 
they  believe  that  success  is  a  matter  of  accident,  and 
that  they  may  spend  their  heart's  choicest  blood  and 
affection  on  noble  ends,  yet  be  balked  of  victory, 
cheated  of  any  just  returns.  Really  "lucky  fellows" 
there  have  always  been  in  the  world;  but  in  a  great 
majority  of  cases  they  who  are  called  such  will  be 
found  on  examination  to  be  those  keen-sighted  men 
who  have  surveyed  the  world  with  a  scrutinizing  eye, 
and  who  to  clear  and  exact  ideas  of  what  is  necessary 
to  be  done  unite  the  skill  necessary  to  execute  their 
well-approved  plans. 

At  first,  in  our  admiration  of  the  man  who  stands 
upon  the  topmost  round  of  the  ladder  of  fame,  we  are 
apt  to  mistake  the  way  in  which  he  got  there.  Our 
eyes  are  weary  with  gazing  up,  and  dazzled  by  the 
brilliant  light;  and  we  fancy  that  God  must  have  let 
him  down  out  of  heaven  for  us;  never  thinking  that  he 
may  have  clambered  up,  round  after  round,  through 
the  mists  which  shroud  the  base  of  that  ladder,  while 
all  the  world,  in  its  heedlessness,  was  looking  another 
way.  Then,  when  we  come  to  know  better,  we  are 
content  to  lie  prostrate  at  the  foot  of  our  ladder,  as 
Jacob  slept  beneath  his,  dreaming  that  they  are  angels 
whom  we  see  ascending,  and  believing  they  ascend  by 


LUCK  AND  PLUCK. 


205. 


heaven-born  genius,  or  some  miraculous  way,  not  by 
pluck. 

A  better  solution  is  that  which  explains  the  phenom- 
ena of  eminent  success  by  industr}^.  Clearly,  the  indus- 
trious use  of  ordinary  tools,  whether  mechanical  or 
intellectual,  will  accomplish  far  more  than  the  mere 
possession  of  the  most  perfectly  appointed  tool-chest 
that  was  ever  contrived.  This  is  especially  true  of  the 
mind,  whose  powers  improve  with  use.  When  we 
reflect  how  the  sharp  wit-blade  grows  keener  in  often 
cutting,  how  the  logic-hammer  swells  into  a  perfect 
sledge  in  long  striking,  how  all  our  mental  tools  gain 
strength  and  edge  in  severe  emplo}Tment,  we  shall  see 
that  it  is  but  a  poor  question  to  ask  concerning  success 
in  life,  "What  tools  had  you?" — that  a  better  question 
is,  "How  have  you  used  your  tools?" 

One  who  thus  educates  himself  up  to  success  is  often 
contented  to  labor  a  long  while  in  a  very  humble  sphere. 
He  knows  too  much,  indeed,  to  abandon  one  position 
before  his  powers  for  a  higher  one  are  fully  ripe ;  for  he 
has  observed  that  they  who  leap  too  rapidly  from  one 
of  life's  stepping  stones  to  another,  are  more  likely  to 
lose  their  footing  than  to  improve  it.  Very  often,  there- 
fore, one  who  possesses  this  character  grows  up  to  com- 
plete manhood  before  his  neighbors  take  him  out  of  his. 
cradle.  In  some  Western  parish,  in  some  country  prac- 
tice, or  at  .  the  head  of  some  district  school,  he  labors 
quietly  for  years  and  years,  gathering  a  secret  strength 
from  every  occurrence  of  his  life,  unnoticed,  unknown^ 
until  at  last  the  crisis  of  opportunity  arrives — to  every 
man  such  opportunity  some  time  comes  —  and  he  starts 


206 


LUCK  AND  PLUCK. 


forth,  armed  and  equipped,  thoroughly  built  from  head 
to  foot;  there  is  bone  for  strength,  and  stout  muscle  for 
movement,  and  society  around  is  astonished  to  find  that 
it  contained  such  a  power,  and  knew  it  not.  The  rise 
of  an  individual,  thus  trained,  is  sometimes  surprising 
in  its  suddenness.  To  the  vision  of  mankind  around, 
he  seems  to  shoot  up  like  a  rocket;  and  they  gaze,  and 
wonder,  and  glorify  the  power  of  genius.  Whereas 
he  grew,  grew  by  a  slow,  steady,  natural  process  of 
growth,  available  to  all  men.  He  grew,  however,  under 
cover;  and  it  was  not  until  circumstances  threw  the 
cover  off  him,  that  we  saw  to  what  stature  he  had 
attained. 

It  is  by  the  exercise  of  this  forward-reaching  indus- 
try that  men  attain  eminence  in  intellectual  life.  The 
lives  of  eminent  men  of  all  nations  determine,  by  a  vote 
almost  overwhelming,  that  whatever  may  have  been 
their  native  powers,  they  did  not  attain  their  ultimate 
success  without  the  most  arduous,  well-directed,  life- 
lasting  labor  for  self-improvement. 

Idleness  is  death;  activity  is  life.  The  worker  is  the 
hero.  Luck  lies  in  labor.  This  is  the  end.  And  labor 
the  fruit  of  pluck.  Luck  and  pluck,  then,  meet  in 
labor.  Pleasure  blossoms  on  the  tree  of  labor.  Wis- 
dom is  its  fruit.  Thrones  are  built  on  labor.  Kingdoms 
stand  by  its  steady  props.  Homes  are  made  by  labor. 
Every  man  of  pluck  will  make  him  one  and  fill  it  with 
the  fruits  of  industry.  In  doing  this  he  will  find  no 
time  to  wait  for,  or  complain  of,  luck. 


PUUPOSE  AND  WILL. 


207 


We  can  never  over  estimate  the  power  of  purpose 
and  will.  It  takes  hold  of  the  heart  of  life.  It  spans 
our  whole  manhood.  It  enters  into  our  hopes,  aims, 
and  prospects.  It  holds  its  scepter  over  our  business, 
our  amusements,  our  philosophy,  and  religion.  Its 
sphere  is  larger  than  we  can  at  first  imagine. 

The  indomitable  will,  the  inflexible  purpose  looking 
for  future  good  through  present  evil,  have  always  begot 
confidence  and  commanded  success,  while  the  opposite 
qualities  have  as  truly  led  to  timid  resolves,  uncertain 
councils,  alternate  exaltation  and  depression,  and  final 
disappointment  and  disaster.  A  vacillating  policy, 
irresolute  councils,  unstable  will,  subordination  of  the 
future  to  the  present,  efforts  to  relieve  ourselves  from 
existing  trouble  without  providing  against  its  recurrence, 
may  bring  momentary  quiet,  but  expose  us  to  greater 
disquiet  than  ever  hereafter.  A  double-minded  man  is 
unstable  in  all  his  ways.  Unstable  as  water,  thou  shalt 
not  excel. 

When  a  child  is  learning  to  walk,  if  you  can  induce 
the  little  creature  to  keep  its  eyes  fixed  on  any  point  in 
advance,  it  will  generally  " navigate"  to  that  point 
without  capsizing;  but  distract  its  attention  by  word  or 
act  from  the  object  before  it,  and  down  goes  the  baby. 
The  rule  applies  to  children  of  a  larger  growth.  The 
man  who  starts  in  life  with  a  determination  to  reach  a 
certain  position,  and  adheres  unwaveringly  to  his  pur- 
pose, rejecting  the  advice  of  the  over-cautious,  and 


208 


PURPOSE  AND  WILL. 


defying  the  auguries  of  the  timid,  rarely  fails  if  he  lives 
long  enough  to  reach  the  goal  for  which  he  set  out. 
If  circumstances  oppose  him,  he  bends  them  to  his 
exigencies  by  the  force  of  energetic,  indomitable  will. 
On  the  other  hand,  he  who  vacillates  in  his  course, 
"yawning,"  as  the  sailors  say,  toward  all  points  of  the 
compass,  is  pretty  sure  to  become  a  helpless  castaway 
before  his  voyage  of  life  is  half  completed.  Smiles,  in 
his  Self-Help,  tells  of  an  English  carpenter  who  was 
observed  one  day  planing  a  magistrate's  bench,  which 
he  was  repairing,  with  more  than  usual  carefulness,  and 
when  asked  the  reason  replied,  "Because  I  wish  to 
make  it  easy  against  the  time  when  I  come  to  sit  upon 
it  myself."  Singularly  enough,  the  man  actually  lived 
to  sit  upon  that  very  bench  as  a  magistrate. 

There  can  be  no  question  among  philosophic  observ- 
ers of  men  and  events,  that  fixedness  of  purpose  is  a 
grand  element  of  human  success.  Weathercock  men 
are  nature's  failures.    They  are  good  for  nothing. 

The  men  of  action,  whose  names  are  written  imper- 
ishably  on  the  page  of  history,  were  men  of  iron.  Silky 
fellows  may  do  for  intrigue,  but  the  founders,  and  con- 
querors, and  liberators,  and  saviors  of  empires,  have  all 
been  of  the  warrior  metal.  No  human  being  who 
habitually  halts  between  two  opinions,  who  cannot 
decide  promptly,  and  having  decided,  act  as  if  there 
was  no  such  word  as  fail,  can  ever  be  great.  Caesar 
would  never  have  crossed  the  Rubicon,  nor  Washington 
the  Delaware,  had  they  not  fixed  their  stern  gaze  on 
objects  far  beyond  the  perils  at  their  feet. 

Henry  Ward  Beecher,  in  a  sermon,  remarked:  "We 


PURPOSE  AND  WILL. 


209 


sec  supreme  purposes  which  men  have  formed  running 
through  their  whole  career  in  this  world.  A  young 
man  means  to  be  a  civil  engineer.  That  is  the  thing 
to  which  his  mind  is  made  up;  not  his  father's  mind,, 
perhaps,  but  his.  He  feels  his  adaptation  to  that  call- 
ing, and  his  drawing  toward  it.  He  is  young,  inexpe- 
rienced, forgetful,  accessible  to  youthful  sympathies., 
and  is  frequently  drawn  aside  from  his  life  purpose. 
To-day  he  attends  a  pic-nic.  Next  week  he  devotes  a 
day  to.  some  other  excursion.  Occasionally  he  loses  a 
day  in  consequence  of  fatigue  caused  by  over  action. 
Thus  there  is  a  link  knocked  out  of  the  chain  of  this 
week,  and  a  link  out  of  the  chain  of  that  week.  And 
in  the  course  of  the  summer  he  takes  a  whole  week,  or 
a  fortnight  out  of  that  purpose.  Yet  there  is  the  thing 
in  his  mind,  whether  he  sleeps  or  wakes.  If  you  had 
asked  him  a  month  ago  what  he  meant  to  be  in  life,  he 
would  have  replied,  4 1  mean  to  be  a  civil  engineer/ 
And  if  you  ask  him  to-day  what  has  been  the  tendency 
of  his  life,  he  will  say, . '  I  have  been  preparing  myself 
to  be  a  civil  engineer.'  If  he  waits  and  does  nothing, 
the  reason  is  that  he  wants  an  opportunity  to  carry  out 
his  purpose.  That  purpose  governs  his  course,  and  he- 
will  not  engage  in  anything  that  would  conflict  with  it. 

"  These  generic  principles  in  the  soul  are  like  those 
great  invisible  laws  of  nature,  whose  effects  are  seen  ire 
the  falling  of  the  pebble-stone,  in  all  the  various  changes 
which  natural  objects  undergo.  When  a  man  has 
formed  in  his  mind  a  great  sovereign  purpose,  it 
governs  his  conduct,  as  the  law  of  nature  governs  the 
operation  of  physical  things. 
14 


210 


PURPOSE  AND  WILL. 


"  Every  man  should  have  a  mark  in  view,  and  pursue 
it  steadily.  He  should  not  be  turned  from  his  course 
by  other  objects  ever  so  attractive.  Life  is  not  long 
enough  for  any  one  man  to  accomplish  everything. 
Indeed  but  few  can  at  best  accomplish  more  than  one 
thing  well.  Many,  alas,  very  many!  accomplish  noth- 
ing worthy.  Yet  there  is  not  a  man  endowed  with  fair 
or  ordinary  intellect  or  capacity  but  can  accomplish  at 
least  one  useful,  important,  worthy  purpose. 

"But  few  men  could  ever  succeed  in  more  than  one 
of  the  learned  professions.  Perhaps  the  man  never 
lived  who  could  master  and  become  eminent  in  the 
practice  of  all  of  them.  Certainly  not  in  them,  and 
also  in  agriculture  and  the  mechanic  arts.  Not  be- 
cause one  man  was  never  endowed  with  capacity  fox 
any  of  those  pursuits  or  callings  as  he  might  choose. 
Our  country,  every  country,  abounds  with  men  posses- 
sing sufficient  natural  capacity  for  almost  or  quite  any 
pursuit  they  might  select  and  pursue  exclusively.  But 
the  reason  is  simply  because  no  one  man  has  the  time, 
even  if  he  have  the  capacity,  to  master  and  pursue 
with  eminent  success,  so  many  and  such  widely  differ- 
ent avocations.  Indeed,  man's  days,  at  most,  are  so 
few,  and  his  capacity,  at  the  highest,  so  small,  that 
never  yet  has  he  even  by  confining  the  united  efforts 
and  energies  of  his  lifetime  at  the  most  trivial  pursuit, 
much  less  in  the  deep  and  intricate  learned  professions, 
attained  to  perfection;  and  he  never  will.  How  much 
less,  then,  are  the  probabilities  of  his  exhausting  several, 
and  those  perhaps  the  most  complicated  spheres  of 
man's  activity." 


PUIiPOSE  AND  WILL.  211 

It  requires  purpose,  will,  and  oneness  of  aim  and 
invincible  determination  to  succeed. 

It  is  will — force  of  purpose — that  enables  a  man  to 
do  or  be  whatever  he  sets  his  mind  on  being  or  doing. 
A  holy  man  was  accustomed  to  say,  "Whatever  you 
wish,  that  you  are;  for  such  is  the  force  of  our  will, 
joined  to  the  Divine,  that  whatever  we  wish  to  be, 
seriously,  and  with  a  true  intention,  that  we  become. 
No  one  ardently  wishes  to  be  submissive,  patient, 
modest,  or  liberal,  who  does  not  become  what  he 
wishes." 

Will  is  the  monarch  of  the  mind,  ruling  with  des- 
potic, and  at  times  with  tyrannical  powers.  It  is  the 
rudder  of  the  mind,  giving  directions  to  its  movements. 
It  is  the  engineer  giving  course  and  point,  speed  and 
force  to  the  mental  machinery.  It  acts  like  a  tonic 
among  the  soul's  languid  powers.  It  is  the  band  that 
ties  into  a  strong  bundle  the  separate  faculties  of  the 
soul.  It  is  the  man's  momentum;  in  a  word,  it  is  that 
power  by  which  the  energy  or  energies  of  the  soul  are 
concentrated  on  a  given  point,  or  in  a  particular  direc- 
tion :  it  fuses  the  faculties  into  one  mass,  so  that  instead 
of  scattering  all  over  like  grape  and  canister,  they 
spend  their  united  force  on  one  point.  The  intellect 
is  the  legislative  department,  the  sensibilities  are  the 
judicial,  and  the  will  the  executive. 

Among  the  many  causes  of  failure  in  life,  none  is 
more  frequent  than  that  feebleness  of  the  will  which  is 
indicated  by  spasmodic  action — by  fitful  effort,  or  lack 
of  persistence.  Dr.  Arnold,  whose  long  experience 
with  youth  at  Rugby  gave  weight  to  his  opinion, 


212  PURPOSE  AND  WILL. 

declared  that  "the  difference  between  one  boy  and 
another  consists  not  so  much  in  talent  as  in  energy." 
"The  longer  I  live,"  says  another  competent  judge,  Sir 
Thomas  Fowell  Buxton,  "the  more  I  am  certain  that 
the  great  difference  between  men,  between  the  great 
and  the  insignificant,  is  energy,  invincible  determina- 
tion, an  honest  purpose  once  fixed,  and  then  death  or 
victory.  This  quality  will  do  anything  in  the  world; 
and  no  talents,  no  circumstances,  will  make  a  two-leg- 
ged creature  a  man  without  it."  The  very  reputation 
of  being  strong-willed,  plucky,  and  indefatigable,  is  of 
priceless  value.  It  often  cowes  enemies  and  dispels  at 
the  start  opposition  to  one's  undertakings  which  would 
otherwise  be  formidable. 

Says  Shakespeare,  "Our  bodies  are  our  gardens;  to 
the  which,  our  souls  are  gardeners":  so  that  if  we  will 
plant  nettles,  or  sow  lettuce;  sow  hyssop,  and  weed 
up  thyme;  supply  it  with  one  gender  of  herbs,  and 
distract  it  with  many;  either  to  have  it  sterile  with 
idleness,  or  manured  with  industry;  why,  the  power 
and  corrigible  authority  of  this  lies  in  our  wills. 

Where  there  is  a  will  there  is  a  way.  Nothing  is 
impossible  to  him  who  wills.  Will  is  the  root;  knowl- 
edge the  stem  and  leaves;  feeling  the  flower. 

"Where  there  is  a  will  there  is  a  way,"  is  an  old  and 
true  saying.  He  who  resolves  upon  doing  a  thing,  by 
that  very  resolution  often  scales  the  barriers  to  it,  and 
secures  its  achievement.  To  think  we  are  able  is 
almost  to  be  so — to  determine  upon  attainment,  is 
frequently  attainment  itself  Thus,  earnest  resolution 
has  often  seemed  to  have  about  it  almost  a  savor  of 


.  COURAGE. 


213 


Omnipotence.  "You  can  only  half  will,"  Suwarrow 
would  say  to  people  who  had  failed.  "I  don't  know," 
"I  can't,' '  and  "impossible,"  were  words  which  he 
detested  above  all  others.  "Learn!  do!  try!"  he 
would  exclaim. 


Nothing  that  is  of  real  worth  can  be  achieved  with- 
out courageous  working.  Man  owes  his  growth  chiefly 
to  that  active  striving  of  the  will,  that  encounter  with 
difficulty,  which  we  call  effort  ■,  and  it  is  astonishing  to 
find  how  often  results  apparently  impracticable  are  thus 
made  possible.  An  intense  anticipation  itself  trans- 
forms possibility  into  reality;  our  desires  being  often 
but  the  precursors  of  the  things  which  we  are  capable 
of  performing.  On  the  contrary,  the  timid  and  hesitat- 
ing find  everything  impossible,  chiefly  because  it  seems 
so.  It  is  related  of  a  young  French  officer  that  he 
used  to  walk  about  his  apartment  exclaiming,  "I  will 
be  marshal  of  France  and  a  great  general."  This 
ardent  desire  was  the  presentiment  of  his  success;  for 
he  did  become  a  distinguished  commander,  and  he  died 
a  marshal  of  France. 

Courage,  by  keeping  the  senses  quiet  and  the  under- 
standing clear,  puts  us  in  a  condition  to  receive  true 
intelligence,  to  make  just  computations  upon  danger, 
and  pronounce  rightly  upon  that  which  threatens  us. 


^mirage 


214 


COURAGE.  ■> 


Innocence  of  life,  consciousness  of  worth,  and  great 
expectations  are  the  best  foundations  of  courage. 

True  courage  is  the  result  of  reasoning.  A  brave 
mind  is  always  impregnable.  Resolution  lies  more  in 
the  head  than  in  the  veins;  and  a  just  sense  of  honor 
and  of  infamy,  of  duty  and  of  religion,  will  carry  us 
further  than  all  the  force  of  mechanism. 

To  believe  a  business  impossible  is  the  way  to  make 
it  so.  How  many  feasible  projects  have  miscarried 
through  despondency,  and  been  strangled  in  the  birth 
by  a  cowardly  imagination.  It  is  better  to  meet  danger 
than  to  wait  for  it.  A  ship  on  a  lee  shore  stands  out  to> 
sea  in  a  storm  to  escape  shipwreck.  Impossibilities, 
like  vicious  dogs,  fly  before  him  who  is  not  afraid  of 
them.  Should  misfortune  overtake,  retrench — work 
harder — but  never  fly  the  track — confront  difficulties 
with  unflinching  perseverance.  Should  you  then  fail, 
you  will  be  honored;  but  shrink,  and  you  will  be 
despised.  When  you  put  your  hands  to  a  work,  let 
the  fact  of  your  doing  so  constitute  the  evidence  that 
you  mean  to  prosecute  it  to  the  end.  Stand  like  a 
beaten  anvil.  It  is  the  part  of  a  great  champion  to  be 
stricken  and  conquer. 

"  Trouble's  darkest  hour 
Shall  not  make  me  cower 
To  the  spectre's  power  — 
Never,  never,  never. 

"  Then  up,  my  soul,  and  brace  thee, 
While  the  perils  face  thee  ; 
In  thyself  encase  thee 
Manfully  for  ever. 


COURAGE. 


215 


"  Storms  may  howl  around  thee, 
Foes  may  hunt  and  hound  thee  : 
Shall  they  overpower  thee  ? 
Never,  never,  never." 

Courage,  like  cowardice,  is  undoubtedly  contagious, 
but  some  persons  are  not  at  all  liable  to  catch  it.  The 
attention  of  restless  and  fickle  men  turns  to  no  account; 
poverty  overtakes  them  whilst  they  are  flying  so  many 
different  ways  to  escape  it.  What  is  called  courage  is 
oftentimes  nothing  more  than  the  fear  of  being  thought 
a  coward.  The  reverence  that  restrains  us  from  violat- 
ing the  laws  of  God  or  man  is  not  unfrequently  branded 
with  the  name  of  cowardice.  The  Spartans  had  a  say- 
ing, that  he  who  stood  most  in  fear  of  the  law  generally 
showed  the  least  fear  of  an  enemy.  And  we  may  infer 
the  truth  of  this  from  the  reverse  of  the  proposition,  for 
daily  experience  shows  us  that  they  who  are  the  most 
daring  in  a  bad  cause  are  often  the  most  pusillanimous, 
in  a  good  one. 

Plutarch  says  courage  consists  not  in  hazarding  with- 
out fear,  but  by  being  resolute  in  a  just  cause.  An 
officer,  after  a  very  severe  battle,  on  being  compli- 
mented on  standing  his  ground  firmly,  under  a  terrible 
fire,  replied,  "Ah,  if  you  knew  how  I  was  frightened, 
you  would  compliment  me  more  still."  It  is  not  the 
stolid  man,  or  the  reckless  man,  who  exhibits  the 
noblest  bravery  in  the  great  battle  of  life.  It  is  the 
man  whose  nerves  and  conscience  are  all  alive;  who 
looks  before  and  behind ;  who  weighs  well  all  the 
probabilities  of  success  or  defeat,  and  is  determined  to 
stand  his  ground.     There  is  another  fine  anecdote 


216 


COURAGE. 


apropos  to  this  subject:  A  phrenologist  examining  the 
liead  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  said,  "Your  grace 
lias  not  the  organ  of  animal  courage  largely  developed." 
"You  are  right,"  replied  the  great  man,  "and  but  for 
my  sense  of  duty  I  should  have  retreated  in  my  first 
fight."  This  first  fight,  in  India,  was  one  of  the  most 
terrible  on  record.  O,  that  word  "duty!"  What  is 
animal  courage  compared  with  it?  Duty  can  create 
that  courage,  or  its  equivalent,  but  that  courage  never 
can  create  duty.  The  Duke  of  Wellington  saw  a  man 
turn  pale  as  he  marched  up  to  a  battery.  "That  is 
a  brave  man,"  said  he,  "he  knows  his  danger  and 
faces  it." 

To  lead  the  forlorn  hope  in  the  field  of  courage 
requires  less  nerve  than  to  fight  nobly  and  unshrink- 
ingly the  bloodless  battle  of  life.  To  bear  evil  speaking 
and  illiterate  judgment  with  equanimity,  is  the  highest 
bravery.    It  is,  in  fact,  the  repose  of  mental  courage. 

Physical  courage,  which  despises  all  danger,  will 
make  a  man  brave  in  one  way;  and  moral  courage, 
which  despises  all  opinion,  will  make  a  man  brave  in 
another.  The  former  would  seem  most  necessary  for 
the  camp,  the  latter  for  council;  but  to  constitute  a 
great  man,  both  are  necessary. 

No  one  can  tell  who  the  heroes  are,  and  who  the 
cowards,  until  some  crisis  comes  to  put  us  to  the  test. 
And  no  crisis  puts  us  to  the  test  that  does  not  bring  us 
ixf  alone  and  single-handed  to  face  danger.  It  is  noth- 
ing to  make  a  rush  with  the  multitude  even  into  the 
jaws  of  destruction.  Sheep  will  do  that.  Armies  might 
he  picked  from  the  gutter,  and  marched  up  to  make 


COURAGE. 


217 


food  for  powder.  But  when  some  crisis  singles  one  out 
from  the  multitude,  pointing  at  him  the  particular 
finger  of  fate,  and  telling  him,  "Stand  or  run,"  and  he 
faces  about  with  steady  nerve,  with  nobody  else  to 
stand  behind,  we  may  be  sure  the  hero  stuff  is  in  him. 
When  such  a  crisis  comes,  the  true  courage  is  just  as 
likely  to  be  found  in  people  of  shrinking  nerves,  or  in 
weak  and  timid  women,  as  in  great  burly  people.  It  is 
a  moral,  not  a  physical  trait.  Its  seat  is  not  in  the 
temperament,  but  the  will.  How  courageous  Peter 
was,  and  all  those  square-built  fishermen  of  the  sea  of 
Galilee,  at  the  Last  Supper,  and  in  the  garden  of  Geth- 
semane,  where  Peter  drew  his  sword  and  smote  the 
officer!  But  when  Christ  looked  down  from  his  cross, 
Whom  did  he  see  standing  in  that  focus  of  Jewish  rage? 
None  of  those  stout  fishermen,  but  a  young  man  and  a 
tender-hearted  woman — John  and  Mary. 

A  good  cause  makes  a  courageous  heart.  They  that 
fear  an  overthrow  are  half  conquered.  To  be  valorous 
is  not  always  to  be  venturous.  A  warm  heart  requires 
a  cool  head. 

Though  the  occasions  of  high  heroic  daring  seldom 
occur  but  in  the  history  of  the  great,  the  less  obtrusive 
opportunities  for  the  exertion  of  private  energy  are 
continually  offering  themselves.  With  these,  domestic 
scenes  as  much  abound  as  does  the  tented  field.  Pain 
may  be  as  firmly  endured  in  the  lonely  chamber  as 
amid  the  din  of  arms.  Difficulties  can  be  manfully 
combatted ;  misfortunes  bravely  sustained ;  poverty 
nobly  supported ;  disappointments  courageously  en- 
countered.   Thus  courage  diffuses  a  wide  and  succor- 


218 


LITTLE  THINGS. 


ing  influence,  and  bestows  energy  apportioned  to  the 
trial.  It  takes  from  calamity  its  dejecting  quality,  and 
enables  the  soul  to  possess  itself  under  every  vicissitude. 
It  rescues  the  unhappy  from  degradation,  and  the  feeble 
from  contempt. 

Courage,  like  every  other  emotion,  however  laudable 
in  its  pure  form,  may  be  allowed  to  degenerate  into  a 
faulty  extreme.  Thus  rashness,  too  often  assuming  the 
name  of  courage,  has  no  pretensions  to  its  merit.  For 
rashness  urges  to  useless  and  impossible  efforts,  and 
thus  produces  a  waste  of  vigor  and  spirit,  that,  properly 
restrained  and  well  directed,  would  have  achieved  deeds 
worthy  to  be  achieved.  Rashness  is  the  exuberance  of 
courage,  and  ought  to  be  checked,  as  we  prune  off  the 
useless  though  vigorous  shoots  of  shrubs  and  trees. 

fettle  ^kmgs* 

Trifles  are  not  to  be  despised.  The  nerve  of 
a  tooth,  not  so  large  as  the  finest  cambric  needle, 
will  sometimes  drive  a  strong  man  to  distraction. 
A  musquito  can  make  an  elephant  absolutely  mad. 
The  coral  rock,  which  causes  a  navy  to  founder, 
is  the  work  of  tiny  insects.  The  warrior  that  with- 
stood death  in  a  thousand  forms  may  be  killed  by 
an  insect.  For  want  of  a  nail  the  shoe  was  lost ;  for 
want  of  a  shoe  the  horse  was  lost ;  for  want  of  a  horse 
the  rider  was  lost.    Every  pea  helps  to  fill  the  peck. 


LITTLE  THINGS. 


219 


Little  and  often  fills  the  purse.  Moments  are  the 
golden  sands  of  time.  Every  day  is  a  little  life;  and 
our  whole  life  is  but  a  day  repeated;  those,  therefore, 
that  dare  lose  a  day,  are  dangerously  prodigal;  those 
that  dare  misspend  it,  desperate.  Springs  are  little 
things,  but  they  are  sources  of  large  streams — a  helm 
is  a  little  thing,  but  it  governs  the  course  of  a  ship — - 
a  bridle  bit  is  a  little  thing,  but  see  its  use  and  power  — 
nails  and  pegs  are  little  things,  but  they  hold  parts  of 
large  buildings  together — a  word,  a  look,  a  frown,  all 
are  little  things,  but  powerful  for  good  or  evil.  Think 
of  this,  and  mind  the  little  things.  Pay  that  little 
debt — it's  promise  redeem. 

Little  acts  are  the  elements  of  true  greatness.  They 
raise  life's  value  like  the  little  figures  over  the  larger 
ones  in  arithmetic,  to  its  highest  power.  They  are 
tests  of  character  and  disinterestedness.  They  are 
the  straws  upon  life's  deceitful  current,  and  show  the 
current's  way.  The  heart  comes  all  out  in  them. 
They  move  on  the  dial  of  character  and  responsibility 
significantly.  They  indicate  the  character  and  destiny. 
They  help  to  make  the  immortal  man.  It  matters  not 
so  much  where  we  are  as  what  we  are.  It  is  seldom 
that  acts  of  moral  heroism  are  called  for.  Rather  the 
F" "  heroism  of  life  is,  to  do  all  its  little  duties  promptly 
u    >  dithfully. 

There  are  no  such  things  as  trifles  in  the  biography 
of  man.  Drops  make  up  the  sea.  Acorns  cover  the 
earth  with  oaks,  and  the  ocean  with  navies.  Sands 
make  up  the  bar  in  the  harbor's  mouth,  on  which 
vessels  are  wrecked;  and  little  things  in  youth  accu- 


220 


LITTLE  THINGS. 


mulate  into  character  in  age,  and  destiny  in  eternity. 
All  the  links  in  that  glorious  chain  which  is  in  all  and 
around  all,  we  can  see  and  admire,  or  at  least  admit; 
but  the  staple  to  which  all  is  fastened,  and  which  is  the 
conductor  of  all,  is  the  Throne  of  Deity. 

If  you  cannot  be  a  great  river,  bearing  great  vessels 
of  blessings  to  the  world,  you  can  be  a  little  spring  by 
the  wayside  of  life,  singing  merrily  all  day  and  all 
night,  and  giving  a  cup  of  cold  water  to  every  weary, 
thirsty  one  who  passes  by. 

Life  is  made  up  of  little  things.  He  who  travels 
over  a  continent  must  go  step  by  step.  He  who  writes 
books  must  do  it  sentence  by  sentence.  He  who  learns 
a  science  must  master  it  fact  by  fact,  and  principle  after 
principle.  What  is  the  happiness  of  our  life  made  up 
of?  Little  courtesies,  little  kindnesses,  pleasant  words, 
genial  smiles,  a  friendly  letter,  good  wishes,  and  good 
■deeds.  One  in  a  million — once  in  a  lifetime — may  do 
a  heroic  action;  but  the  little  things  that  make  up  our 
life  come  every  day  and  every  hour.  If  we  make  the 
little  events  of  life  beautiful  and  good,  then  is  the  whole 
life  full  of  beauty  and  goodness. 

There  is  nothing  too  little  for  so  little  a  creature  as 
man.  It  is  by  studying  little  things  that  we  attain  the 
great  art  of  having  as  little  misery  and  as  much  happi- 
ness as  possible.  "If  a  straw,"  says  Dryden,  "can  be 
made  the  instrument  of  happiness,  he  is  a  wise  man 
who  does  not  despise  it."  A  very  little  thing  makes 
all  the  difference.  You  stand  in  the  engine-room  of  a 
steamer;  you  admit  the  steam  to  the  cylinders,  and  the 
paddles  turn  ahead;  a  touch  of  a  lever,  you  admit  the 


LITTLE  THINGS. 


221 


self-same  steam  to  the  self-same  cylinders,  and  the 
paddles  turn  astern.  It  is  so,  oftentimes,  in  the  moral 
world.  The  turning  of  a  straw  decides  whether  the 
engines  shall  work  forward  or  backward.  Look  to 
the  littles.  The  atomic  theory  is  the  true  one.  The 
universe  is  but  an  infinite  attrition  of  particles.  The 
grandest  whole  is  resolvable  to  fractions;  or,  as  the 
ditty  has  it — 

"  Little  drops  of  water  and  little  grains  of  sand, 
Fill  the  mighty  ocean  and  form  the  solid  land." 

Is  it  not  strange  that,  in  the  face  of  these  facts,  men 
will  neglect  details?  that  many  even  consider  them 
beneath  their  notice,  and,  when  they  hear  of  the  success 
of  a  business  man  who  is,  perhaps,  more  solid  than 
brilliant,  sneeringly  say  that  he  is  "great  in  little 
things"?  Is  it  not  the  "little  things"  that,  in  the 
aggregate,  make  up  whatever  is  great?  Is  it  not  the 
countless  grains  of  sand  that  make  the  beach;  the  trees 
that  form  the  forest;  the  successive  strata  of  rock  that 
compose  the  mountains;  the  myriads  of  almost  imper- 
ceptible stars  that  whiten  the  heavens  with  the  milky- 
way? 

So  with  character,  fortune,  and  all  the  concerns  of 
life — the  littles  combined  form  the  great  bulk.  If  we 
look  well  to  the  disposition  of  these,  the  sum  total  will 
be  cared  for.  It  is  the  minutes  wasted  that  wound  the 
hours  and  mar  the  day.  It  is  the  pennies  neglected 
that  squander  the  dollars.  The  majority  of  men  dis- 
dain littles  —  to  many  fractions  are  "vulgar"  in  more 
senses  than  the  rule  implies.    It  is  apt  to  be  thought 


'222 


LITTLE  THINGS. 


indicative  of  a  narrow  mind  and  petty  spirit  to  be 
scrupulous  about  littles.  Yet  from  littles  have  sprung 
the  mass  of  great  vices  and  crimes.  In  habits,  in  man- 
ners, in  business,  we  have  only  to  watch  the  littles,  and 
all  will  come  out  clear.  The  smallest  leak,  overlooked, 
may  sink  a  ship — the  smallest  tendency  to  evil  thinking 
or  evil  doing,  left  unguarded,  may  wreck  character  and 
life.  No  ridicule  should  dissuade  us  from  looking  to 
the  littles.  The  greatest  and  best  of  men  have  not 
been  above  caring  for  the  littles — some  of  which  have 
to  do  with  every  hour  and  every  purpose  of  our  lives. 

Often  what  seems  a  trifle,  a  mere  nothing  by  itself, 
in  some  nice  situations  turns  the  scale  of  fate,  and  rules 
the  most  important  actions.  The  cackling  of  a  goose 
is  fabled  to  have  saved  Rome  from  the  Gauls,  and  the 
pain  produced  by  a  thistle  to  have  warned  a  Scottish 
army  of  the  approach  to  the  Danes;  and  according  to 
the  following  anecdote  from  Randall's  "Life  of  Jeffer- 
son,' '  it  seems  that  flies  contributed  to  hasten  the 
American  independence:  While  the  question  of  inde- 
pendence was  before  Congress,  it  had  its  meeting  near 
a  livery  stable.  Its  members  wore  short  breeches  and 
silk  stockings,  and,  with  handkerchief  in  hand,  they 
were  diligently  employed  in  lashing  the  flies  from  their 
legs.  So  very  vexatious  was  this  annoyance,  and  to  so 
great  an  impatience  did  it  arouse  the  sufferers,  that  it 
hastened,  if  it  did  not  aid  in  inducing  them  to  promptly 
affix  their  signatures  to  the  great  document  which  gave 
birth  to  an  empire  republic ! 

Discoveries  are  made  mostly  by  little  things.  The  art 
of  printing  owes  its  origin  to  rude  impressions  (forthe 


LITTLE  THINGS. 


223 


amusement  of  children)  from  letters  carved  on  the 
bark  of  a  beech  tree.  It  was  a  slight  matter  which 
thousands  would  have  passed  over  with  neglect.  Gun- 
powder was  discovered  from  the  falling  of  a  spark  on 
some  material  mixed  in  a  mortar. 

The  stupendous  results  of  the  steam-engine  may  all  be 
attributed  to  an  individual  observing  steam  issuing  from  a 
bottle  just  emptied  and  placed  casually  close  to  a  fire. 
He  plunged  the  bottle's  neck  into  cold  water  and  was 
intelligent  enough  to  notice  the  instantaneous  rush 
which  ensued  from  this  simple  condensing  apparatus. 
Electricity  was  discovered  by  a  person  observing  that 
a  piece  of  rubbed  glass,  or  some  similar  substance, 
attracted  small  bits  of  paper,  etc. 

Galvanism  again  owes  its  origin  to  Madame  Galvani's 
noticing  the  contraction  of  the  muscles  of  a  skinned 
frog  which  was  accidentally  touched  by  a  person  at  the 
moment  of  the  professor,  her  husband,  taking  an  electric 
spark  from  a  machine.  He  followed  up  the  hint  by 
experiments. 

Pendulum  clocks  were  invented  from  Galileo's  ob- 
serving the  lamp  in  a  church  swinging  to  and  fro.  The 
telescope  we  owe  to  some  children  of  a  spectacle-maker 
placing  two  or  more  pairs  of  spectacles  before  each  other 
and  looking  through  them  at  a  distant  object.  The 
glimpse  thus  afforded  was  followed  up  by  older  heads. 

The  barometer  originated  in  the  circumstance  of  a 
pump  which  had  been  fixed  higher  than  usual  above 
the  surface  of  a  well.  A  sagacious  observer  hence 
deducted  the  pressure  of  the  atmosphere  and  tried 
quicksilver. 


224 


LITTLE  THINGS. 


The  Argand  lamp  was  invented  by  one  of  the 
brothers  of  that  name  having  remarked  that  a  tube 
held  by  chance  over  a  candle  caused  it  to  burn  with  a 
bright  flame. 

Sedulous  attention  and  painstaking  industry  always 
mark  the  true  worker.  The  greatest  men  are  not 
those  who  "despise  the  day  of  small  things,"  but  those 
who  improve  them  the  most  carefully.  Michael  An- 
gelo  was  one  day  explaining  to  a  visitor  at  his  studio 
what  he  had  been  doing  at  a  statue  since  his  previous 
visit.  "I  have  retouched  this  part — polished  that  — 
softened  this  feature — brought  out  that  muscle — given 
some  expression  to  this  lip,  and  more  energy  to  that 
limb."  "But  these  are  trifles,"  remarked  the  visitor 
"It  may  be  so,"  replied  the  sculptor,  "but  recollect 
that  trifles  make  perfection,  and  perfection  is  no  trifle." 
So  it  was  said  of  Nicholas  Poissin,  the  painter,  that 
the  rule  of  his  conduct  was,  that  "whatever  was  worth 
doing  at  all  was  worth  doing  well;"  and  when  asked,, 
late  in  life,  by  what  means  he  had  gained  so  high  a 
reputation  among  the  painters  of  Italy,  he  emphatically 
answered,  "Because  I  have  neglected  nothing." 

Many  of  the  most  distinguished  names  in  the  world's 
history  were  nearly  half  a  century  in  attracting  the 
admiring  notice  of  mankind;  as  witness  Cromwell  and 
Cavour,  and  Bismarck  and  Palmerston,  and  the  elder 
Beecher.  But  their  star  will  never  die;  their  works, 
their  influence  on  the  age  in  which  they  lived,  will  be 
perpetuated  to  remote  generations.  This  should  be 
encouragement  to  all  the  plodders,  for  their  time  may 
come. 


LITTLE  THINGS. 


225 


It  is  the  intelligent  eye  of  the  careful  observer  which 
gives  apparently  trivial  phenomena  their  value.  So 
trifling  a  matter  as  the  sight  of  sea-weed  floating  past 
his  ship,  enabled  Columbus  to  quell  the  mutiny  which 
arose  among  his  sailors  at  not  discovering  land,  and 
to  assure  them  that  the  eagerly  sought  New  World 
was  not  far  off.  There  is  nothing  so  small  that  it 
should  remain  forgotten;  and  no  fact,  however  trivial, 
but  may  prove  useful  in  some  way  or  other  if  carefully 
interpreted.  Who  could  have  imagined  that  the  famous 
"chalk-cliffs  of  Albion"  had  been  built  up  by  tiny  in- 
sects— detected '  only  by  the  help  of  the  microscope — 
of  the  same  order  of  creatures  that  have  gemmed  the 
sea  with  islands  of  coral!  And  who  that  contemplates 
such  extraordinary  results,  arising  from  infinitely  minute 
operations,  will  venture  to  question  the  power  of  little 
things  ? 

It  is  the  close  observation  of  little  things  which  is 
the  secret  of  success  in  business,  in  art,  in  science,  and 
in  every  pursuit  in  life.  Human  knowledge  is  but  an 
accumulation  of  small  facts,  made  by  successive  gen- 
erations of  men,  the  little  bits  of  knowledge  and  expe- 
rience carefully  treasured  up  by  them  growing  at  length 
into  a  mighty  pyramid.  Though  many  of  these  facts 
and  observations  seemed  in  the  first  instance  to  have 
but  slight  significance,  they  are  all  found  to  have  their 
eventual  uses,  and  to  fit  into  their  proper  places.  Even 
many  speculations  seemingly  remote  turn  out  to  be  the 
basis  of  results  the  most  obviously  practical.  In  the 
case  of  the  conic  sections  discovered  by  Apolonius 

Pergceus,  twenty  centuries  elapsed  before  they  were 
15 


226 


LITTLE  THINGS. 


made  the  basis  of  astronomy — a  science  which  enables 
the  modern  navigator  to  steer  his  way  through  un- 
known seas,  and  traces  for  him  in  the  heavens  an  uner- 
ring path  to  his  appointed  haven.  And  had  not  math- 
ematics toiled  for  so  long,  and,  to  uninstructed  observers, 
apparently  so  fruitlessly,  over  the  abstract  relations  of 
lines  and  surfaces,  it  is  probable  that  but  few  of  our 
mechanical  inventions  would  have  seen  the  light. 

When  Franklin  made  his  discovery  of  the  identity 
of  lightning  and  electricity,  it  was  sneered  at,  and  peo- 
ple asked,  "Of  what  use  is  it?"  to  which  his  apt  reply 
was,  "What  is  the  use  of  a  child?  It  may  become  a 
man!"  When  Galvani  discovered  that  a  frog's  leg 
twitched  when  placed  in  contact  with  different  metals, 
it.  could  scarcely  have  been  imagined  that  so  apparently 
insignificant  a  fact  could  have  led  to  important  results. 
Yet  therein  lay  the  germ  of  the  electric  telegraph, 
which  binds  the  intelligence  of  continents  together,  and 
doubtless  before  many  years  elapse  will  "put  a  girdle 
round  the  globe."  So,  too,  little  bits  of  stone  and 
fossil,  dug  out  of  the  earth,  intelligently  interpreted, 
have  issued  in  the  science  of  geology  and  the  prac- 
tical operations  of  mining,  in  which  large  capitals  are 
invested  and  vast  numbers  of  persons  profitably  em- 
ployed. 


ECONOMY, 


227 


Economy  is  the  parent  of  integrity,  of  liberty,  and 
of  ease;  and  the  beauteous  sister  of  temperance,  of 
cheerfulness,  and  health  :  and  profuseness  is  a  cruel  and 
crazy  demon,  that  gradually  involves  her  followers  in 
dependence  and  debt;  that  is,  fetters  them  with  "irons 
that  enter  into  their  souls.1' 

A  sound  economy  is  a  sound  understanding  brought 
into  action.  It  is  calculation  realized ;  it  is  the  doctrine 
of  proportion  educed  to  practice.  It  is  foreseeing  con- 
tingencies and  providing  against  them.  Economy  is 
one  of  three  sisters  of  whom  the  other  and  less  reputa- 
ble two  are  avarice  and  prodigality.  She  alone  keeps 
the  straight  and  safe  path,  while  avarice  sneers  at  her  as 
profuse,  and  prodigality  scorns  at  her  as  penurious.  To 
the  poor  she  is  indispensable;  to  those  of  moderate 
means  she  is  found  the  representative  of  wisdom.  The 
loose  change  which  many  young  men  throw  away 
uselessly,  and  sometimes  even  worse,  would  often  form 
the  basis  of  fortune  and  independence.  But  when  it  is 
so  recklessly  squandered  it  becomes  the  worst  enemy 
to  the  young  man.  He  will  soon  find  that  he  has 
bought  nothing  but  expensive  habits,  and  perhaps  a 
ruined  character.  Economy,  joined  to  industry  and 
sobriety  is  a  better  outfit  to  business  than  a  dowery. 

We  don't  like  stinginess,  we  don't  like  economy, 
when  it  comes  down  to  rags  and  starvation.  We  have 
no  sympathy  with  the  notion  that  the  poor  man  should 
hitch  himself  to  a  post  and  stand  still,  while  the  rest  of 


228 


ECONOMY. 


the  world  moves  forward.  It  is  no  man's  duty  to  deny 
himself  every  amusement,  every  recreation,  every  com- 
fort, that  he  may  get  rich.  It  is  no  man's  duty  to  make 
an  iceberg  of  himself,  to  shut  his  eyes  and  ears  to  the 
sufferings  of  his  fellows,  and  to  deny  himself  the  enjoy- 
ment that  results  from  generous  actions,  merely  that  he 
may  hoard  wealth  for  his  heirs  to  quarrel  about.  But 
there  is  an  economy  which  is  every  man's  duty,  and 
which  is  especially  commendable  in  the  man  who  strug- 
gles with  poverty — an  economy  which  is  consistent 
with  happiness,  and  which  must  be  practiced  if  the  poor 
man  would  secure  independence.  It  is  almost  every 
man's  privilege,  and  it  becomes  his  duty,  to  live  within 
his  means;  not  to,  but  within  them.  This  practice  is 
of  the  very  essence  of  honesty.  For  if  a  man  does 
not  manage  honestly  to  live  within  his  own  means  he 
must  necessarily  be  living  dishonestly  upon  the  means 
of  some  one  else.  If  your  means  do  not  suit  your  ends, 
pursue  those  ends  which  suit  your  means.  Men  are 
ruined  not  by  what  they  really  want,  but  by  what  they 
think  they  want.  Therefore  they  should  never  go 
abroad  in  search  of  their  wants;  if  they  be  real  wants 
they  will  come  home  in  search  of  them;  for  if  they  buy 
what  they  do  not  want,  they  will  soon  want  what  they 
cannot  buy. 

Wealth  does  not  make  the  man,  we  admit,  and 
should  never  be  taken  into  the  account  in  our  judgment 
of  men;  but  competence  should  always  be  secured,, 
when  it  can  be,  by  the  practice  of  economy  and  self- 
denial  only  to  a  tolerable  extent.  It  should  be  secured, 
not  so  much  for  others  to  look  upon,  or  to  raise  us  in 


ECONOMY. 


229 


the  estimation  of  others,  as  to  secure  the  consciousness 
of  independence,  and  the  constant  satisfaction  which  is 
derived  from  its  acquirement  and  possession. 

Simple  industry  and  thrift  will  go  far  toward  making 
any  person  of  ordinary  working  faculty  comparatively 
independent  in  his  means.  Almost  every  working  man 
may  be  so,  provided  he  will  carefully  husband  his 
resources  and  watch  the  little  outlets  of  useless  expend- 
iture. A  penny  is  a  very  small  matter,  yet  the  com- 
fort of  thousands  of  families  depends  upon  the  proper 
saving  and  spending  of  pennies.  If  a  man  allows  the 
little  pennies,  the  result  of  his  hard  work,  to  slip  out  of 
his  fingers  —  some  to  the  beer-shop,  some  this  way  and 
some  that  —  he  will  find  that  his  life  is  little  raised 
above  one  of  mere  animal  drudgery.  On  the  other 
hand,  if  he  take  care  of  the  pennies;  putting  some 
weekly  into  a  benefit  society  or  an  insurance  fund, 
others  into  a  savings-bank,  and  confiding  the  rest  to  his 
wife  to  be  carefully  laid  out,  with  a  view  to  the  com- 
fortable maintenance  and  education  of  his  family,  he 
will  soon  find  that  his  attention  to  small  matters  will 
abundantly  repay  him,  in  increasing  means,  growing 
comfort  at  home,  and  a  mind  comparatively  free  from 
fears  as  to  the  future.  If  a  working  man  have  high 
ambition  and  possess  richness  in  spirit  —  a  kind  of 
wealth  which  far  transcends  all  mere  worldly  posses- 
sions— he  may  not  only  help  himself,  but  be  a  profitable 
helper  of  others  in  his  path  through  life. 

When  one  is  blessed  with  good  sense,  and  fair  oppor- 
tunities, this  spirit  of  economy  is  one  of  the  most  ben- 
eficial of  all  secular  gifts,  and  takes  high  rank  among 


230 


ECONOMY. 


the  minor  virtues.  It  is  by  this  mysterious  power  that 
the  loaf  is  multiplied,  that  using  does  not  waste,  that 
little  becomes  much,  that  scattered  fragments  grow  to 
unity,  and  that  out  of  nothing,  or  next  to  nothing, 
comes  the  miracle  of  something!  Economy  is  not 
merely  saving,  still  less,  parsimony.  It  is  foresight 
and  arrangement.  It  is  insight  and  combination.  It 
is  a  subtile  philosophy  of  things  by  which  new  uses,, 
new  compositions  are  discovered.  It  causes  inert 
things  to  labor,  useless  things  to  serve  our  necessities^ 
perishing  things  to  renew  their  vigor,  and  all  things  to 
exert  themselves  -  for  human  comfort.  Economy  is 
generalship  in  little  things.  We  know  men  who  live 
better  on  a  thousand  dollars  a  year  than  others  upon 
five  thousand.  We  know  very  poor  persons  who  bear 
about  with  them  in  everything  a  sense  of  fitness  and 
nice  arrangement,  which  make  their  life  artistic.  There 
are  day-laborers  who  go  home  to  more  real  comfort  of 
neatness,  arrangement,  and  prosperity,  in  their  single 
snug  room,  than  is  found  in  the  lordly  dwellings  of 
many  millionaires.  And  blessings  be  on  their  good 
angel  of  economy,  which  wastes  nothing,  and  yet  is 
not  sordid  in  saving;  that  lavishes  nothing,  and  is  not 
parsimonious  in  giving;  that  spreads  out  a  little  with 
the  blessings  of  taste  upon  it,  which,  if  it  does  not  mul- 
tiply the  provision,  more  than  makes  it  up  in  the  pleas* 
ure  given.    Let  no  man  despise  economy. 

There  is  no  virtue  so  unduly  appreciated  as  economy7 
nor  is  there  one  more  truly  worthy  of  estimation ;  a 
neglect  of  economy  eventually  leads  to  every  misery 
of  poverty  and  degradation,  not  unfrequently  to  every 


ECONOMY. 


231 


variety  of  error  and  of  crime.  Dr.  Johnson  asserted, 
"that  where  there  was  no  prudence,  there  was  no  vir- 
tue." Of  all  the  maxims  pronounced  by  that  great 
moralist,  perhaps  no  one  was  more  just  or  more 
instructive.  Even  in  that  branch  of  prudence  that 
directs  us  to  take  cognizance  of  our  pecuniary  affairs, 
the  propriety  of  this  aphorism  is  very  striking. 

The  progress  of  civilization  has  incurred  a  necessity 
of  barter  and  exchange  as  the  means  of  subsistence. 
Thus  wealth,  as  the  medium  of  acquiring  all  the  com- 
forts and  all  the  luxuries  of  life,  has  obtained  high  con- 
sideration among  mankind.  Philosophers  may  there- 
fore scoff  as  much  as  they  please  at  the  value  placed 
upon  riches,  but  they  will  never  succeed  in  lessening 
the  desire  for  their  possession.  When  considered  as 
the  means  of  enjoying  existence  in  comfort,  it  must  be 
seen  that  it  is  only  by  the  judicious  expenditure  of 
wealth,  that  this  end  can  be  obtained.  Pass  a  few 
years,  and  the  prodigal  is  pennyless.  How  few,  under 
such  circumstances,  but,  directly  or  indirectly,  are 
guilty  of  injustice  and  cruelty.  Debts  unpaid,  friends 
deceived,  kindred  deprived  of  a  rightful  inheritance — 
such  are  the  consequences  of  profusion,  and  are  not 
such  positive  acts  of  injustice  and  cruelty?  Let  those, 
therefore,  who  indignantly  stigmatize  the  miser  as  a 
pest  to  society,  and  in  a  fancied  honorable  horror  of 
miserly  meanness  are  for  showing  their  nobler  spirit 
by  running  into  an  opposite  extreme,  reflect,  that 
though  different  the  means,  how  similar  the  results 
of  profusion;  how  exactly  conducting  to  the  same 
crimes  and  miseries.    The  taste  of  the  age  is  so  much 


232 


FARM  LIFE. 


more  friendly  to  prodigality;  the  lavish  expenditure 
of  wealth,  by  conducing  to  the  gratification  of  society, 
is  so  often  unduly  applauded,  that  it  is  an  extreme 
much  more  likely  to  be  rushed  upon.  But  when  the 
real  consequences  of  its  indulgence  are  fairly  and  dis- 
passionately surveyed,  its  true  deformity  will  be  quickly 
perceived. 

In  short,  econonry  appears  to  induce  the  exertion  of 
almost  every  laudable  emotion;  a  strict  regard  to  hon- 
esty; a  laudable  spirit  of  independence;  a  judicious 
prudence  in  providing  for  the  wants;  a  steady  benev- 
olence in  preparing  for  the  claims  of  the  future.  Really 
we  seem  to  have  run  the  circle  of  the  virtues;  justice 
and  disinterestedness,  honesty,  independence,  prudence, 
and  benevolence. 

ffsmn  %%%%» 

Agriculture  is  the  greatest  among  the  arts,  for  it 
is  first  in  supplying  our  necessities.  It  is  the  mother 
and  nurse  of  all  other  arts.  It  favors  and  strengthens 
population;  it  creates  and  maintains  manufactures,  gives 
employment  to  navigation  and  materials  to  commerce. 
It  animates  every  species  of  industry,  and  opens  to 
nations  the  surest  channels  of  opulence.  It  is  also  the 
strongest  bond  of  well  regulated  society,  "the  surest 
basis  of  internal  peace,  the  natural  associate  of  good 
morals. 


FARM  LIFE. 


233 


We  ought  to  count  among  the  benefits  of  agriculture 
the  charm  which  the  practice  of  it  communicates  to  a 
country  life.  That  charm  which  has  made  the  country, 
in  our  own  view,  the  retreat  of  the  hero,  the  asylum  of 
the  sage,  and  the  temple  of  the  historic  muse.  The 
strong  desire,  the  longing  after  the  country,  with  which 
we  find  the  bulk  of  mankind  to  be  penetrated,  points  to 
it  as  the  chosen  abode  of  sublunary  bliss.  The  sweet 
occupations  of  culture,  with  her  varied  products  and 
attendant  enjoyments  are,  at  least,  a  relief  from  the 
stifling  atmosphere  of  the  city,  the  monotony  of  sub- 
divided employments,  the  anxious  uncertainty  of  com- 
merce, the  vexations  of  ambition  so  often  disappointed, 
of  self-love  so  often  mortified,  of  factitious  pleasuies 
and  unsubstantial  vanities. 

Health,  the  first  and  best  of  all  the  blessings  of  life, 
is  preserved  and  fortified  by  the  practice  of  agriculture. 
That  state  of  well-being  which  we  feel  and  cannot 
define;  that  self-satisfied  disposition  which  depends,  per- 
haps, on  the  perfect  equilibrium  and  easy  play  of  vital 
forces,  turns  the  slightest  acts  to  pleasure,  and  makes 
every  exertion  of  our  faculties  a  source  of  enjoyment; 
this  inestimable  state  of  our  bodily  functions  is  most 
vigorous  in  the  country,  and  if  lost  elsewhere,  it  is  in 
the  country  we  expect  to  recover  it. 

"  In  ancient  times,  the  sacred  plow  employ'd 
The  kings,  and  awful  fathers  of  mankind : 
And  some,  with  whom  compared,  your  insect  tribes 
Are  but  the  beings  of  a  summer's  day, 
Have  held  the  scale  of  empire,  ruled  the  storm 
Of  mighty  war,  then,  with  unwearied  hand, 


234 


FARM  LIFE. 


Disdaining  little  delicacies,  seized 
The  plow  and  greatly  independent  lived." 

—  Thomson's  Seasons, 

We  deplore  the  disposition  of  young  men  to  get 
away  from  their  farm  homes  to  our  large  cities,  where 
they  are  subject  to  difficulties  and  temptations,  which, 
but  too  often,  they  fail  to  overcome. 

Depend  upon  it,  if  you  would  hold  your  sons  and 
brothers  back  from  roaming  away  into  the  perilous 
centers,  you  must  steadily  make  three  attempts — to 
abate  the  taskwork  of  farming,  to  raise  maximum  crops 
and  profits,  and  to  surround  your  work  with  the  exhil- 
aration of  intellectual  progress.  You  must  elevate  the 
whole  spirit  of  your  vocation  for  your  vocation's  sake, 
till  no  other  can  outstrip  it  in  what  most  adorns  and 
strengthens  a  civilized  state. 

We  have  long  observed,  and  with  unfeigned  regret, 
the  growing  tendency  of  young  men  and  lads,  yet 
early  in  their  teens,  to  abandon  the  healthful  and 
ennobling  cares  of  the  farm  for  the  dangerous  excite- 
ments and  vicissitudes  of  city  life  and  trade.  Delightful 
firesides  and  friendly  circles  in  the  quiet  rural  districts 
are  every  day  sacrificed  to  this  lamentable  mania  of  the 
times.  Young  men,  favored  with  every  comfort  of  life,, 
and  not  overworked,  fancy  that  they  may  do  far  better 
than  "to  guide  the  ox  or  turn  the  stubborn  glebe;'1  and 
with  the  merest  trifle  of  consideration  their  hands  are 
withdrawn  from  the  implements  of  agriculture  and 
given  to  the  office  or  shop-work  of  the  city,  which  gen- 
erally proves  vastly  less  agreeable  or  profitable  than 


FAlUf  LIFE. 


235 


they  had  (in  their  inexcusable  thoughtlessness)  antici- 
pated. Disappointed  and  chagrined,  they  faint  under 
the  advance  of 

"  Nimble  mischance,  that  comes  so  swift  of  foot," 

and  where  one  is  enabled  to  withstand  the  sweeping 
tide  of  temptation,  five  are  submerged  in  its  angry 
waves  and  hurried  on  to  ruin.  Every  year  finds  hun- 
dreds, ay,  thousands,  of  such  victims,  irrecoverably 
allied  to  the  fallen  and  vicious  of  every  class,  from  the 
smooth-tongued  parlor  gambler  and  rake,  to  the  more 
degraded,  if  not  more  despicable,  " Bowery  Boy"  and 
"Dead  Rabbit,"  while  the  prison  doors,  and  worse,  the 
gates  of  hell,  close  on  many  "  lost  ones  "  who  had  been 
saved  but  for  the  foolish  desertion  of  home  and  true 
friends.  It  has  been  well  said  that  "for  a  young  man 
of  unstable  habits  and  without  religious  principles,  there 
is  no  place  where  he  will  be  so  soon  ruined  as  in  a  large 
city." 

Parents  throughout  the  country  have  not  failed  to 
realize  this  startling  truth,  and  to  sorely  mourn  the 
strange  inclination  of  their  sons  to  encounter  the  fascin- 
ating snares  and  pitfalls  of  city  residence  and  fashion. 
In  brief,  let  the  country  lad  be  as  well  educated  for  the 
farm  as  his  city  cousin  is  for  the  bar,  or  the  counting- 
room.  And  by  all  possible  means  let  the  farmer  be  led 
to  properly  estimate  his  high  and  honorable  position  in 
the  community  "Ever  remember,"  writes  Goldthwait, 
"that  for  health  and  substantial  wealth,  for  rare  oppor- 
tunities for  self-improvement,  for  long  life  and  real 
independence,   farming   is  the  best  business  in  the 


236 


FARM  LIFE. 


world."  History  tells  of  one  who  was  called  from  the 
plow  to  the  palace,  from  the  farm  to  the  forum;  and 
when  he  had  silenced  the  angry  tumults  of  a  State 
resumed  again  the  quiet  duties  of  a  husbandman.  Of 
whose  resting-place  did  Halleck  write  these  beautiful 
lines  ? 

"  Such  graves  as  his  are  pilgrim- shrines, 
Shrines  to  no  code  or  creed  confined — 
The  Delphian  vales,  the  Palestines, 
The  Meccas  of  the  mind." 

It  was  Burns,  the  plow-boy,  afterward  the  national 
bard  of  Scotland.  And  Burns  himself  has  left  evidence 
that  he  composed  some  of  the  rarest  gems  of  his  poetry 
while  engaged  in  rural  pursuits. 

It  would  require  volumes  to  enumerate  the  noble  men 
who  have  imperishably  recorded  their  exalted  apprecia- 
tion of  rural  life  and  enterprise.  Every  age  has  aug 
mented  the  illustrious  number.  Our  own  immortal 
Washington  was  ever  more  enamored  of  the  sickle 
than  the  sword,  and  unhesitatingly  pronounced  agricul- 
ture "the  most  healthy,  the  most  useful,  and  the  most 
noble  employment  of  man." 

When  we  walk  abroad  in  nature,  we  go  not  as  artists 
to  study  her  scenes,  but  as  her  children  to  rejoice  in  her 
beauty.  The  breath  of  the  air,  the  blue  of  the  un- 
clouded sky,  the  shining  sun,  and  the  green  softness  of 
the  unflowered  turf  beneath  our  feet,  are  all  that  we 
require  to  make  us  feel  that  we  are  transported  into  a 
region  of  delights.  We  breathe  and  tread  in  a  pure 
untroubled  world,  and  the  fresh  clear  delight  that 


FARM  LIFE. 


breathes  round  our  senses  seems  to  bathe  our  spirits  in 
the  innocence  of  nature.  It  is  not  that  we  have  prized 
a  solitude  which  secludes  us  from  the  world  of  life;  but 
the  aspects  on  which  we  look  breathe  a  spirit ;  the 
characters  we  read  speak  a  language  which,  mysterious 
and  obscurely  intelligible  as  they  are,  draw  us  on  with 
an  eager  and  undefined  desire.  In  shapes  and  sounds 
of  fear;  in  naked  crags,  gulfs,  precipices,  torrents  that 
have  rage  without  beauty,  desolate  places;  there  is  to 
that  temper  of  mind  and  attractive  power.  All  speak 
in  some  way  to  the  spirit,  and  raise  up  in  it  new  and 
hidden  emotion,  which,  even  when  mingled  with  pain, 
it.  is  glad  to  feel ;  for  such  emotion  makes  discovery  to' 
it  of  its  own  nature,  and  the  interest  it  feels  so  strongly 
springs  up  from  and  returns  into  itself. 

Of  all.  occupations,  that  of  agriculture  is  best  calcu- 
lated to  induce  love  of  country,  and  rivet  it  firmly  on 
the  heart.  No  profession  is  more  honorable,  none  as 
conducive  to  health,  peace,  tranquillity,  and  happiness. 
More  independent  than  any  other  calling,  it  is  calcu- 
lated to  produce  an  innate  love  of  liberty.  The  farmer 
stands  upon  a  lofty  eminence,  and  looks  upon  the  bustle 
of  cities,  the  intricacies  of  mechanism,  the  din  of  com- 
merce, and  brain  confusing,  body  killing  literature,, 
with  feelings  of  personal  freedom,  peculiarly  his  own. 
He  delights  in  the  prosperity  of  the  city  as  his  market 
place,  acknowledges  the  usefulness  of  the  mechanic, 
admires  the  enterprise  of  the  commercial  man,  and 
rejoices  in  the  benefits  that  flow  from  the  untiring 
investigations  and  developments  of  science;  then  turns 


238 


SUCCESS. 


his  thoughts  to  the  pristine  quiet  of  his  agrarian  do- 
main, and  covets  not  the  fame  that  accumulates  around 
the  other  professions. 


Twenty  clerks  in  a  store;  twenty  hands  in  a  print- 
ing office;  twenty  apprentices  in  a  ship}^ard;  twenty 
young  men  in  a  village  —  all  want  to  get  on  in  the 
world,  and  expect  to  succeed.  One  of  the  clerks  will 
become  a  partner  and  make  a  fortune;  one  of  the  com- 
positors will  own  a  newspaper  and  become  an  influential 
citizen;  one  of  the  apprentices  will  become  a  master 
builder;  one  of  the  young  villagers  will  get  a  hand- 
some farm  and  live  like  a  patriarch — but  which  one  is 
the  lucky  individual?  Lucky!  there  is  no  luck  about 
it.  The  thing  is  almost  as  certain  as  the  Rule  of  Three. 
The  young  fellow  who  will  distance  his  competitors  is 
he  who  masters  his  business,  who  preserves  his  integ- 
rity, who  lives  cleanly  and  purely,  who  devotes  his 
leisure  hours  to  the  acquisition  of  knowledge,  who  never 
gets  into  debt,  who  gains  friends  by  deserving  them, 
and  who  saves  his  spare  money.  There  are  some  ways 
to  fortune  shorter  than  this  old  dusty  highway  —  but 
the  staunch  men  of  the  community,  the  men  who 
achieve  something  really  worth  having,  good  fortune 
and  serene  old  age,  all  go  on  in  this  road. 


THE     BSEPA  RT  PRE. 

FOR  THE  ROVA1,  PATH  OF  LIFE 


SUCCESS. 


239 


We  hear  a  great  deal  about  "good  luck"  and  abad 
luck."  If  a  person  has  prospered  in  business,  he  is 
said  to  have  had  "good  luck."  If  he  has  failed,  he 
has  had  "bad  luck."  If  he  has  been  sick,  good  or 
bad  luck  is  said  to  have  visited  him,  accordingly  as 
he  got  well  or  died.  Or,  if  he  has  remained  in 
good  health,  while  others  have  been  attacked  by 
some  epidemic  disease,  he  has  had  the  "good  luck" 
to  escape  that  with  which  others  have  had  the  "bad 
luck  "  to  be  seized.  Good  or  bad  luck  is,  in  most  cases, 
but  a  synonym  for  good  or  bad  judgment.  The  pru- 
dent, the  considerate,  and  the  circumspect  seldom  com- 
plain of  ill  luck. 

We  do  not  know  anything  which  more  fascinates  youth 
than  what,  for  want  of  a  better  word,  we  may  call 
brilliancy.  Gradually,  however,  this  peculiar  kind  of 
estimation  changes  very  much.  It  is  no  longer  those 
who  are  brilliant,  those  who  affect  to  do  the  most  and 
the  best  work  with  the  least  apparent  pains  and  trouble, 
whom  we  are  most  inclined  to  admire.  We  eventually 
come  to  admire  labor,  and  to  respect  it  the  more,  the 
more  openly  it  is  proclaimed  by  the  laborious  man  to 
be  the  cause  of  his  success,  if  he  has  any  success  to 
boast  of. 

A  great  moral  safeguard  is  habits  of  industry.  This 
promotes  our  happiness;  and  so  leaves  no  cravings  for 
those  vices  which  lead  on  and  down  to  sin  and  its  untold 
miseries.  Industry  conducts  to  prosperity.  Fortunes 
may,  it  is  true,  be  won  in  a  day;  but  they  may  also  be 
lost  in  a  day.  It  is  only  the  hand  of  the  diligent  that 
makes  one  permanently  rich.    The  late  Mr.  Ticknor, 


240 


SUCCESS. 


of  Boston,  a  model  merchant  and  publisher,  in  his  last 
hours  spoke  of  the  value  of  a  steady  pursuit  of  one's 
legitimate  business.  He  commented  on  the  insane 
traffic  in  gold  at  that  moment,  as  ruinous  to  the  coun- 
try and  the  parties  engaged  in  it.  "The  pathway  of 
its  track,"  said  he,  "is  strewn  with  wrecks  of  men  and 
fortunes;  but  few  have  failed  of  success  who  were 
honest,  earnest,  and  patient."  He  attributed  his  own 
success  to  his  clinging  to  his  resolution  to  avoid  all  spec- 
ulations, and  steadily  pursuing  the  business  of  his 
choice.  He  had  been  bred  to  the  trade  of  a  broker; 
but  thought  it  as  dangerous  as  the  lottery  and  dice. 
And  no  young  man  could  fail  to  be  warned  by  him, 
who  had  seen  the  frenzy  that  comes  over  the  "Brokers* 
Board."  "A  Babel  of  conflicting  sounds — a  hot  oven 
of  excitement"  is  that  board;  it  is  amoral  storm  which 
few  can  withstand  long.  How  much  wiser  is  he  who 
keeps  out  of  this  whirlpool,  content  with  an  honest 
calling  and  reasonable  gains. 

Who  are  the  successful  men?  They  are  those  who 
when  boys  were  compelled  to  work  either  to  help  them- 
selves or  their  parents,  and  who  when  a  little  older  were 
under  the  stern  necessity  of  doing  more  than  their  legit- 
imate share  of  labor ;  who  as  young  men  had  their  wits 
sharpened  by  having  to  devise  ways  and  means  of 
making  their  time  more  available  than  it  would  be 
under  ordinary  circumstances.  Hence  in  reading  the 
lives  of  eminent  men  who  have  greatly  distinguished 
themselves,  we  find  their  youth  passed  in  self-denials 
of  food,  sleep,  rest,  and  recreation.  They  sat  up  late, 
rose  early,  to  the  performance  of  imperative  duties, 


SUCCESS. 


241 


doing  by  daylight  the  work  of  one  man,  and  by  night 
that  of  another.  Said  a  gentleman,  the  other  day,  now 
a  private  banker  of  high  integrity,  and  who  started  in 
life  without  a  dollar,  "For  years  I  was  in  my  place 
of  business  by  sunrise,  and  often  did  not  leave  it  for 
fifteen  or  eighteen  hours."  Let  not,  then,  any  youth 
be  discouraged  if  he  has  to  make  his  own  living,  or 
even  to  support  a  widowed  mother,  or  sick  sister,  or 
unfortunate  relative;  for  this  has  been  the  road  to  em- 
inence of  many  a  proud  name.  This  is  the  path  which 
printers  and  teachers  have  often  trod — thorny  enough 
at  times,  at  others  so  beset  with  obstacles  as  to  be 
almost  impassable:  but  the  way  was  cleared,  sunshine 
came,  success  followed — then  the  glory  and  renown. 

The  secret  of  one's  success  or  failure  in  nearly  every 
enterprise  is  usually  contained  in  answer  to  the  ques- 
tion: How  earnest  is  he?  Success  is  the  child  of  con- 
fidence and  perseverance.  The  talent  of  success  is 
simply  doing  what  you  can  do  well,  and  doing  well 
whatever  you  do — without  a  thought  of  fame.  Fame 
never  comes  because  it  is  craved.  Success  is  the  best 
test  of  capacity.  Success  is  not  always  a  proper  crite- 
rion for  judging  a  man's  character.  It  is  certain  that 
success  naturally  confirms  us  in  a  favorable  opinion  of 
ourselves.  Success  in  life  consists  in  the  proper  and 
harmonious  development  of  those  faculties  which  God 
has  given  us^ 

Be  thrifty  that  you  may  have  wherewith  to  be  chari- 
table.   He  that  labors  and  thrives  spins  gold. 

We  are  familiar  with  people  who  whine  continually 
at  fate.  To  believe  them,  never  was  a  lot  so  hard  as 
16 


242 


SUCCESS.. 


theirs;  yet  those  who  know  their  history  will  generally 
tell  you  that  their  life  has  been  but  one  long  tale  of 
opportunities  disregarded,  or  misfortunes  otherwise 
deserved.  Perhaps  they  were  born  poor.  In  this  case 
they  hate  the  rich,  and  have  always  hated  them,  but 
without  ever  having  emulated  their  prudence  or  energy. 
Perhaps  they  have  seen  their  rivals  more  favored  by 
accident.  In  this  event  they  forgot  how  many  have 
been  less  lucky  than  themselves;  so  they  squandered 
their  little,  because,  as  they  say,  they  cannot  save  as 
much  as  others.  Irritated  at  life,  they  grow  old  pre- 
maturely. Dissatisfied  with  everything,  they  never 
permit  themselves  to  be  happy.  Because  they  are  not 
born  at  the  top  of  the  wheel  of  fortune,  they  refuse  to 
take  hold  of  the  spoke  as  the  latter  comes  around,  but 
lie  stubborn  to  the  dirt,  crying  like  spoiled  children, 
neither  doing  anything  themselves,  nor  permitting  oth- 
ers to  do  it  for  them. 

Some  men  make  a  mistake  in  marrying.  They  do 
not  in  this  matter  either  begin  right.  Have  they  their 
fortunes  still  to  make?  Too  often,  instead  of  seeking 
one  who  would  be  a  helpmate  in  the  true  sense  of  the 
term,  they  unite  themselves  to  a  giddy,  improvident 
creature,  with  nothing  to  recommend  her  but  the  face 
of  a  doll  and  a  few  showy  accomplishments.  Such  a 
wife,  they  discover  too  late,  neither  makes  home  happy 
nor  helps  to  increase  her  husband's  means.  At  first, 
thriftless,  extravagant  and  careless,  she  gradually  be- 
comes cross  and  reproachful,  and  while  she  envies 
other  women,  and  reproaches  her  husband  because  he 
cannot  afford  to  maintain  her  like  them,  is  really  the 


SUCCESS. 


243 


principal  cause  of  his  ill  fortune.  The  selection  of  a 
proper  companion  is  one  of  the  most  important  concerns 
of  life.  A  well-assorted  marriage  assists,  instead  of 
retarding,  a  rnan's  prosperity.  Select  a  sensible,  agree- 
able, amiable  woman,  and  you  will  have  secured  a  prize 
"better  than  riches."  If  you  do  otherwise,  then,  alas 
for  you! 

Treat  every  one  with  respect  and  civility.  ''Every- 
thing is  gained,  and  nothing  lost,  by  courtesy."  "Good 
manners  insure  success."  Never  anticipate  wealth 
from  any  other  source  than  labor.  "He  who  waits  for 
dead  men's  shoes  may  have  to  go  a  long  time  bare 
foot."  And  above  all,  "Nil desfierandum"  for  "Heaven 
helps  those  who  help  themselves."  If  you  implicitly 
follow  these  precepts,  nothing  can  hinder  you  from 
accumulating.  Let  the  business  of  everybody  else 
alone,  and  attend  to  your  own;  don't  buy  what  you 
don't  want;  use  every  hour  to  advantage,  and  study 
to  make  even  leisure  hours  useful;  think  twice  before 
you  throw  away  a  shilling;  remember  you  will  have 
another  to  make  for  it;  find  recreation  in  your  own 
business ;  buy  low,  sell  fair,  and  take  care  of  the  profits ; 
look  over  your  books  regularly,  and,  if  you  find  an 
error,  trace  it  out;  should  a  stroke  of  misfortune  come 
over  your  trade,  retrench,  work  harder,  but  never  fly 
the  track;  confront  difficulties  with  unceasing  perse- 
verance, and  they  will  disappear  at  last;  though  you 
should  fail  in  the  struggle,  you  will  be  honored;  but 
shrink  from  the  task  and  you  will  be  despised. 

Engage  in  one  kind  of  business  only,  and  stick  to  it 
faithfully  until  you  succeed,  or  until  your  experience 


244  success. 

shows  that  you  should  abandon  it.  A  constant  ham. 
mering  on  one  nail  will  generally  drive  it  home  at  last, 
so  that  it  can  be  clinched.  When  a  man's  undivided 
attention  is  centered  on  one  object,  his  mind  will  con- 
stantly be  suggesting  improvements  of  value,  which 
would  escape  him  if  his  brain  was  occupied  by  a  dozen 
different  subjects  at  once.  Many  a  fortune  has  slipped 
through  a  man's  fingers  because  he  was  engaging  in 
too  many  occupations  at  a  time.  There  is  good  sense 
in  the  old  caution  against  having  too  many  irons  in  the 
fire  at  once. 

"At  thy  first  entrance  upon  thy  estate,"  once  said  a 
wise  man,  "keep  a  low  sail,  that  thou  mayst  rise  with 
honor;  thou  canst  not  decline  without  shame;  he  that 
begins  where  his  father  ends,  will  end  where  his  father 
began."  An  English  judge  being  asked  what  con- 
tributed most  to  success  at  the  bar,  replied,  "Some 
succeed  by  great  talent,  some  by  the  influence  of  friends, 
some  by  a  miracle,  but  the  majority  by  commencing 
without  a  shilling.'''' 

Everywhere  in  human  experience,  as  frequently  in 
nature,  hardship  is  the  vestibule  of  the  highest  success. 
That  magnificent  oak  was  detained  twenty  years  in  its 
upward  growth  while  its  roots  took  a  great  turn  around 
a  boulder  by  which  the  tree  was  anchored  to  withstand 
the  storms  of  centuries. 

In  our  intercourse  with  the  world  a  cautious  circum- 
spection is  of  great  advantage.  Slowness  of  belief,  and 
a  proper  distrust,  are  essential  to  success.  The  cred- 
ulous and  confiding  are  ever  the  dupes  of  knaves  and 
imposters.     Ask  those  who  have  lost  their  property 


SUCCESS. 


245 


how  it  happened,  and  you  will  find  in  most  cases  it  has 
been  owing  to  misplaced  confidence.  One  has  lost  by 
endorsing;  another  by  crediting;  another  by  false  repre- 
sentations; all  of  which  a  little  more  foresight  and  a 
little  more  distrust  would  have  prevented.  In  the 
affairs  of  this  world  men  are  not  saved  by  faith,  but  by 
the  want  of  it. 

They  who  are  eminently  successful  in  business,  or 
who  achieve  greatness,  or  even  notoriety  in  any  pur- 
suit, must  expect  to  make  enemies.  Whoever  becomes 
distinguished  is  sure  to  be  a  mark  for  the  malicious 
spite  of  those  who,  not  deserving  success  themselves, 
are  galled  by  the  merited  triumph  of  the  more  worthy. 
Moreover,  the  opposition  which  originates  in  such 
despicable  motives,  is  sure  to  be  of  the  most  unscrupu- 
lous character;  hesitating  at  no  iniquity,  descending  to 
the  shabbiest  littleness.  Opposition,  if  it  be  honest  and 
manly,  is  not  in  itself  undesirable.  It  is  the  whetstone 
by  which  a  highly  tempered  nature  is  polished  and 
sharpened.  He  that  has  never  known  adversity,  is  but 
half  acquainted  with  others  or  with  himself.  Constant 
success  shows  us  but  one  side  of  the  world.  For,  as  it 
surrounds  us  with  friends,  who  will  tell  us  only  our 
merits,  so  it  silences  those  enemies  from  whom  alone 
we  can  learn  our  defects. 


246 


INDUSTRY. 


Our  success  in  life  generally  bears  a  direct  propor- 
tion to  the  exertions  we  make,  and  if  we  aim  at  nothing 
we  shall  certainly  achieve  nothing.  By  the  remission 
of  labor  and  energy,  it  often  happens  that  poverty  and 
contempt,  disaster  and  defeat,  steal  a  march  upon  pros- 
perity and  honor,  and  overwhelm  us  with  reverses  and 
shame. 

A  very  important  principle  in  the  business  of  money- 
getting,  is  industry — persevering,  indefatigable  attention 
to  business.  Persevering  diligence  is  the  philosopher's 
stone,  which  turns  everything  to  gold.  Constant,  regu- 
lar, habitual,  and  systematic  application  to  business, 
must,  in  time,  if  properly  directed,  produce  great  results. 
It  must  lead  to  wealth,  with  the  same  certainty  that 
poverty  follows  in  the  train  of  idleness  and  inattention. 

It  has  been  said  that  the  best  cure  for  hard  times  is 
to  cheat  the  doctor  by  being  temperate;  the  lawyer,  by 
keeping  out  of  debt  ;  the  demagogue,  by  voting  for 
honest  men;  and  poverty,  by  being  industrious. 

To  industry,  guided  by  reasonable  intelligence  and 
economy,  every  people  can  look  with  certainty  as  an 
unfailing  source  of  temporal  prosperity.  Whatever  is 
useful  or  beautiful  in  art,  science,  or  other  human 
attainment,  has  come  from  industry.  In  the  humblest 
pursuits,  industry  may  be  accompanied  by  the  noblest 
intelligence,  so  that  respect,  place  and  power  are  open 
to  its  humblest  honest  practicer.  Let  no  man  spurn 
industry  as  his  temporal  shield;  it  is  the  safest  and 


INDUSTRY. 


247 


surest  he  can  buckle  to  his  arm,  and  with  it  he  may 
defy  the  want  and  poverty  which,  more  than  everything 
else,  destroy  the  independence  of  man. 

Honorable  industry  always  travels  the  same  road 
with  enjoyment  and  duty;  and  progress  is  altogether 
impossible  without  it.  The  idle  pass  through  life  leav- 
ing as  little  trace  of  their  existence  as  foam  upon  the 
water,  or  smoke  upon  the  air;  whereas  the  industrious 
stamp  their  character  upon  their  age,  and  influence  not 
only  their  own  but  all  succeeding  generations.  Labor 
is  the  best  test  of  the  energies  of  men,  and  furnishes  an 
admirable  training  for  practical  wisdom. 

Practical  industry,  wisely  and  vigorously  applied, 
never  fails  of  success.  It  carries  a  man  onward  and 
upward,  brings  out  his  individual  character,  and  power- 
fully stimulates  the  action  of  others.  All  may  not  rise 
equally,  yet  each,  on  the  whole,  very  much  according 
to  his  deserts.  "Though  all  cannot  live  on  the  piazza," 
as  the  Tuscan  proverb  has  it,  "every  one  may  feel  the 
sun." 

Industry  is  the  heir  of  fortune;  the  companion  of 
honesty  and  honor;  the  beauteous  sister  of  temperance, 
health  and  ease  —  one  of  the  noble  virtues  which  links 
with  perfection. 

Industry  has  a  physical  blessing;  limbs  strengthened 
by  exercise,  and  sinews  braced  by  exertion;  every 
organ  performing  its  legitimate  duty,  and  kept  in  its 
appointed  office ;  the  blood  circulated  by  motion,  and 
the  joints  pliant  from  use ;  disease  repelled  by  internal 
vigor ;  appetite  created  by  the  calls  of  increasing 
strength ;  rest  rendered  welcome  by  previous  labor ; 


248 


INDUSTRY. 


sleep  become  acceptable  after  busy  working.  The 
habit,  free  from  the  petty  ailments  entailed  by  sluggish- 
ness, no  longer  falls  a  prey  to  peevishness  and  irritation,, 
and  time  employed,  not  wasted  in  murmurs  and  discon- 
tent. The  temper,  less  tried  by  bodily  infirmity  and 
secret  upbraidings,  acquires  equanimity.  The  spirits, 
unharrassed  by  petty  pains  and  plagues,  rise  to  cheer- 
fulness. The  faculties,  unimpaired  by  disease,  un- 
blunted  by  disuse,  more  vigorously  expand.  The  whole 
man,  active,  useful,  and  happy,  is  enabled  to  resist  the 
approaches  of  infirmity,  sickness,  and  sorrow;  to  enjoy 
a  vigorous  old  age,  and  to  drop  after  a  brief  struggle 
his  mortal  frame,  to  soar  with  improved  powers  into  a 
state  of  improved  being.  While  in  idleness,  the  dis- 
ordered frame,  gradually  sickening,  oppresses  the  vital 
powers.  The  mind,  weakened  and  stuepfied,  imbibes 
wild  or  gloomy  ideas;  the  better  faculties  are  crushed 
and  curbed,  and  the  whole  man  at  last  sinks  beneath 
the  undermining  mischiefs  of  insidious  sloth. 

Is  this  a  wretched  picture?  Whilst  we  feel  that 
though  it  is  so,  it  is  also  a  true  one,  let  us  gratefully 
remember,  that  such  a  state  is  not  inevitable,  but  that 
it  is  one  incurred  from  choice,  and  produced  by  volun- 
tary permission.  Reverse  the  picture,  extirpate  sloth, 
and  in  its  place  introduce  activity,  and  how  mighty  is 
the  difference?  The  wand  of  Harlequin  could  never 
produce  a  more  striking  change. 

In  vain  has  nature  thrown  obstacles  and  impediments 
in  the  way  of  man.  He  surmounts  every  difficulty 
interposed  between  his  energy  and  his  enterprise.  Over 
seas  and  mountains  his  course  is  unchecked;  he  directs 


HONESTY. 


249 


the  lightning's  wings,  and  almost  annihilates  space  and 
time.  Oceans,  rivers,  and  deserts  are  explored;  hills 
are  leveled,  and  the  rugged  places  made  smooth.  "  On 
the  hardest  adamant  some  footprint  of  us  is  stamped 
in."  The  soil  teems  with  fertility,  and  under  the  cun- 
ning and  diligent  hand  of  his  taste  and  skill,  the  whole 
earth  is  beautified  and  improved. 

The  stimulus  of  a  painful  necessity  urges  man  to 
accomplish  more  than  his  necessities  require,  and  the 
world  is  filled  with  monuments  and  memorials  of  his 
industry,  his  zeal,  his  patient  labor,  his  masterly  spirit, 
and  his  indomitable  perseverance. 

"  All  is  the  gift  of  industry  :  whate'er 
Exalts,  embellishes,  and  renders  life 
Delightful." 


The  first  step  toward  greatness  is  to  be  honest, 
says  the  proverb;  but  the  proverb  fails  to  state  the 
case  strong  enough.  Honesty  is  not  only  the  first 
step  toward  greatness — it  is  greatness  itself. 

It  is  with  honesty  in  one  particular  as  with  wealth; 
those  that  have  the  thing  care  less  about  the  credit  of 
it  than  those  that  have  it  not.  What  passes  as  open- 
faced  honesty  is  often  masked  malignity.  He  who 
saith  there  is  no  such  thing  as  an  honest  man,  you  may 
be  sure  is  himself  a  knave.    When  any  one  complains, 


250 


HONESTY. 


as  Diogenes  did,  that  he  has  to  hunt  the  street  with 
candles  at  noon-day  to  find  an  honest  man,  we  are  apt 
to  think  that  his  nearest  neighbor  would  have  quite  as 
much  difficulty  as  himself  in  making  the  discovery.  If 
you  think  there  isn't  an  honest  man  living,  you  had 
better,  for  appearance  sake,  put  off  saying  it  until  you 
are  dead  yourself.  Honesty  is  the  best  policy,  but 
those  who  do  honest  things  merely  because  they  think 
it  good  policy,  are  not  honest.  No  man  has  ever  been 
too  honest.  Cicero  believed  that  nothing  is  useful  that 
is  not  honest.  He  that  walketh  uprightly,  walketh 
surely;  but  he  that  perverteth  his  ways  shall  be  known. 
There  is  an  alchemy  in  a  high  heart  which  transmutes 
other  things  to  its  own  quality. 

The  truth  of  the  good  old  maxim,  that  "Honesty  is 
the  best  policy,"  is  upheld  by  the  dairy  experience  of 
life ;  uprightness  and  integrity  being  found  as  successful 
in  business  as  in  everything  else.  As  Hugh  Miller's 
worthy  uncle  used  to  advise  him,  "In  all  your  dealings 
give  your  neighbor  the  cast  of  the  bank  — '  good  meas- 
ure, heaped  up,  and  running  over'  —  and  you  will  not 
lose  by  it  in  the  end." 

Honesty  ia  the  best  policy.  But  no  man  can  be 
upright,  amid  the  various  temptations  of  life,  unless 
he  is  honest  for  the  right's  sake.  You  should  not  be 
honest  from  the  low  motive  of  policy,  but  because  you 
feel  the  better  for  being  honest.  The  latter  will  hold 
you  fast,  let  the  element  set  as  it  will,  let  storms  blow 
ever  so  fiercely;  the  former  is  but  a  cable  of  pack- 
thread, which  will  snap  apart.  In  the  long  run,  charac- 
ter is  better  than  capital.   Most  of  the  great  American 


HONESTY. 


251 


merchants,  whose  revenues  outrank  those  of  princesr 
owe  their  colossal  fortunes  principally  to  a  character 
for  integrity  and  ability.  Lay  the  foundations  of  a 
character  broad  and  deep.  Build  them  on  a  rock, 
and  not  on  sand.  The  rains  may  then  descend,  the 
floods  rise  and  the  winds  blow,  but  your  house  will 
stand.  But,  establish  a  character  for  loose  dealings, 
and  lo!  some  great  tempest  will  sweep  it  away. 

The  religious  tradesman  complains  that  his  honesty 
is  a  hindrance  to  his  success;  that  the  tide  of  custom 
pours  into  the  doors  of  his  less  scrupulous  neighbors  in 
the  same  street,  while  he  himself  waits  for  hours  idle. 
My  brother,  do  you  think  that  God  is  going  to  reward 
honor,  integrity  and  highmindedness  with  this  world's 
coin?  Do  you  fancy  that  he  will  pay  spiritual  excel- 
lence with  plenty  of  custom?  Now  consider  the  price 
thac  man  has  paid  for  his  success.  Perhaps  mental 
degradation  and  inward  dishonor.  His  advertisements 
are  all  deceptive;  his  treatment  of  his  workmen  tyran- 
nical; his  cheap  prices  made  possible  by  inferior  articles. 
Sow  that  man's  seed,  and  you  will  reap  that  man's 
harvest.  Cheat,  lie,  advertise,  be  unscrupulous  in  your 
assertions,  custom  will  come  to  you;  but  if  the  price  is 
too  dear,  let  him  have  his  harvest,  and  take  yours. 
Yours  is  a  clear  conscience,  a  pure  mind,  rectitude 
within  and  without.  Will  you  part  with  that  for  his? 
Then  why  do  you  complain?  He  has  paid  his  price; 
you  do  not  choose  to  pay  it. 

Some,  in  their  passion  for  sudden  accumulation,  prac- 
tice secret  frauds,  and  imagine  there  is  no  harm  in  its 


252 


HONESTY. 


•so  they  he  not  detected.  But  in  vain  will  they  cover 
up  their  transgressions;  for  God  sees  it  to  the  bottom; 
and  let  them  not  hope  to  keep  it  always  from  man. 
The  birds  of  the  air  sometimes  carry  the  tale  abroad. 
In  the  long  web  of  events,  "Be  sure  your  sin  will  find 
you  out."  He  who  is  carrying  on  a  course  of  latent 
corruption  and  dishonesty,  be  he  president  of  some 
mammoth  corporation,  or  engaged  only  in  private 
transactions,  is  sailing  in  a  ship  like  that  fabled  one 
of  old,  which  ever  comes  nearer  and  nearer  to  a  mag- 
netic mountain,  that  will  at  last  draw  every  nail  out 
of  it.  All  faith  in  God,  and  all  trust  in  man  will 
eventually  be  lost,  and  he  will  get  no  reward  for  his 
guilt.  The  very  winds  will  sigh  forth  his  iniquity; 
and  "a  beam  will  come  out  of  the  wall,"  and  convict 
and  smite  him. 

Strict  honesty  is  the  crown  of  one's  early  days. 
"Your  son  will  not  do  for  me,"  was  once  said  to  a 
friend  of  mine;  "  he  took  pains,  the  other  day,  to  tell  a 
customer  of  a  small  blemish  in  a  piece  of  goods."  The 
salesboy  is  sometimes  virtually  taught  to  declare  that 
goods  cost  such  or  such  a  sum;  that  they  are  strong, 
fashionable,  perfect,  when  the  whole  story  is  false.  So 
is  the  bloom  of  a  God-inspired  truthfulness  not  seldom 
brushed  from  the  cheek  of  our  simple-hearted  children. 

We  hope  and  trust  these  cases  are  rare;  but  even 
one  such  house  as  we  allude  to,  may  ruin  the  integrity 
and  the  fair  fame  of  many  a  lad.  God  grant  our  young 
men  to  feel  that  "an  honest  man  is  the  noblest  work  of 
God,"  and,  under  all  temptations,  to  live  as  they  feel. 

The  possession  of  the  principle  of  honesty  is  a  matter 


HONESTY. 


253 


known  most  intimately  to  the  man  and  his  God,  and 
fully,  only  to  the  latter.  No  man  knows  the  extent 
and  strength  of  his  own  honesty,  until  he  has  passed  the 
fiery  ordeal  of  temptation.  Men  who  shudder  at  the 
disho.nesty  of  others,  at  one  time  in  life,  then  sailing 
before  the  favorable  wind  of  prosperity,  when  adversity 
overtakes  them,  their  honesty  too  often  flies  away  on 
the  same  wings  with  their  riches;  and,  what  they  once 
viewed  with  holy  horror,  they  now  practice  with  shame- 
less impunity.  Others,  at  the  commencement  of  a 
prosperous  career,  are  quite  above  any  tricks  in  trade; 
but  their  love  of  money  increases  with  their  wealth, 
their  honesty  relaxes,  they  become  hard  honest  men, 
then  hardly  honest,  and  are,  finally,  confirmed  in  dis- 
honesty. 

On  the  great  day  of  account,  it  will  be  found,  that 
men  have  erred  more  in  judging  of  the  honesty  of 
others  than  in  any  one  thing  else ;  not  even  religion 
excepted.  Many  who  have  been  condemned,  and  had 
the  stigma  of  dishonesty  fixed  upon  them,  because  mis- 
fortune disabled  them  from  paying  their  just  debts,  will 
stand  acquitted  by  the  Judge  of  quick  and  dead,  whilst 
others  cover  dishonest  hearts  and  actions,  undetected 
by  man. 

It  is  my  earnest  desire  to  eradicate  the  impression, 
so  fatal  to  many  a  young  man,  that  one  cannot  live  by 
being  perfectly  honest.  You  must  have  known  men 
who  have  gone  on  for  years  in  unbroken  prosperity 
and  yet  never  adopted  that  base  motto,  "All  is  fair  ia 
trade."  You  must  have  seen,  too,  noble  examples  of 
those  who  have  met  with  losses  and  failures,  and  yet 


254  charaAer. 

risen  from  them  all  with  a  conscious  integrity,  and  who 
have  been  sustained  by  the  testimony  of  all  around  them, 
that,  though  unfortunate,^  they  were  never  dishonest? 
When  we  set  before  you  such  examples,  when  we  show 
you,  not  only  that  "Honesty  is  the  best  policy,"  but 
that  it  is  the  very  keystone  of  the  whole  arch  of  manly 
and  Christian  qualities,  it  cannot  be  that  every  ingen- 
ious heart  does  not  'respond  to  the  appeal.  Heaven 
grant  all  such  to  feel  that  an  "Honest  man  is  the 
noblest  work  of  God,"  and  to  live  as  they  feel. 


There  is  a  structure  which  every  body  is  building, 
young  and  old,  each  one  for  himself.  It  is  called  char- 
acter, and  every  act  of  life  is  a  stone.  If  day  by  day 
we  be  careful  to  build  our  lives  with  pure,  noble, 
upright  deeds,  at  the  end  will  stand  a  fair  temple,  hon- 
ored by  God  and  man.  But,  as  one  leak  will  sink  a 
ship,  and  one  flaw  break  a  chain,  so  one  mean,  dishon- 
orable, untruthful  act  or  word  will  forever  leave  its 
impress  and  work  its  influence  on  our  characters. 
Then,  let  the  several  deeds  unite  to  form  a  day,  and 
one  Uy  one  the  days  grow  into  noble  years,  and  the 
yeads,  as  they  slowly  pass,  will  raise  at  last  a  beautiful 
edi$ce,  enduring  for  ever  to  our  praise. 

There  are  as  many  master- workmen  in  you  as  there 
are  separate  faculties;  and  there  are  as  many  blows 


CHARACTER. 


255 


struck  as  there  are  separate  acts  of  emotion  or  volition. 
Every  single  day  these  myriad  forces  are  building, 
building,  building.  Here  is  a  great  structure  going  up, 
point  by  point,  story  by  story,  although  you  are  not 
conscious  of  it.  It  is  a  building  of  character.  It  is  a 
building  that  must  stand,  and  the  word  of  inspiration 
warns  you  to  take  heed  how  you  build  it;  to  see  to  it 
that  you  have  a  foundation  that  shall  endure;  to  make 
sure  that  you  are  building  on  it,  not  for  the  hour  in 
which  you  live,  but  for  that  hour  of  revelation,  when 
you  shall  be  seen  just  as  you  are. 

Our  minds  are  given  us,  but  our  characters  we  make. 
Our  mental  powers  must  be  cultivated.  The  full 
measure  of  all  the  powers  necessary  to  make  a  man 
are  no  more  a  character  than  a  handful  of  seeds  is  an 
orchard  of  fruits.  Plant  the  seeds  and  tend  them  well, 
and  they  will  make  an  orchard.  Cultivate  the  powers 
and  harmonize,  them  well,  and  they  will  make  a  noble 
character.  The  germ  is  not  the  tree,  the  acorn  is  not 
the  oak,  neither  is  the  mind  a  character.  God  gives 
the  mind;  man  makes  the  character.  The  mind  is  the 
garden;  the  character  is  the  fruit;  {the  mind  is  the 
white  page ;  the  character  is  the  writing  we  put  on  it^ 
The  mind  is  the  metallic  plate;  the  character  is  our 
engraving  thereon.  The  mind  is  the  shop,  the  count- 
ing-room ;  the  character  is  our  profits  on  the  trade. 
Large  profits  are  made  from  quick  sales  and  small  per 
centage.  So  great  characters  are  made  by  many  little 
acts  and  efforts.  A  dollar  is  composed  of  a  thousand 
mills ;  so  is  a  character  of  a  thousand  thoughts  and  acts. 
£The   secret   thoughts   never  expressed,  the  inward 


256 


CHARACTER. 


indulgences  in  imaginary  wrong,  the  lie  never 
told  for  want  of  courage,  the  licentiousness  never 
indulged  in  from  fear  of  public  rebuke,  the  irreverence 
of  the  heart,  are  just  as  effectual  in  staining  the  char- 
acter as  though  the  world  knew  all  about  them.  A 
subtile  thing  is  a  character;  and  a  constant  work  is  its 
formation.  Whether  it  be  good  or  bad,  it  has  been 
long  in  its  growth,  and  is  the  aggregate  of  millions  of 
little  mental  acts.  A  good  character  is  a  precious 
thing,  above  rubies,  gold,  crowns,  or  kingdoms,  and  the 
work  of  making  it  is  the  noblest  labor  on  earth. 

Character  is  formed  by  a  course  of  actions,  and  not 
actions  by  character.  A  person  can  have  no  character 
before  he  has  had  actions.  Though  an  action  be  ever 
so  glorious  in  itself,  it  ought  not  to  pass  for  great,  if  it 
be  not  the  effect  of  wisdom  and  good  design.  Great 
actions  carry  their  glory  with  them  as  the  ruby  wears 
its  colors.  Whatever  be  your  condition  or  calling  in 
life,  keep  in  view  the  whole  of  your  existence.  Act 
not  for  the  little  span  of  time  allotted  you  in  this  world, 
but  act  for  eternity. 

Characters  formed  by  circumstances  are  much  like 
machine  poetry.  They  will  do  for  the  sport  of  mirth, 
and  the  torment  of  the  senses  of  the  beautiful.  But 
they  are  horrible  things.  It  makes  angels  weep  to 
look  at  them.  They  are  the  picture  of  old  chaos,  a 
mass  of  confusion.  A  thousand  winds  have  blown 
together  the  materials  of  which  they  are  made.  They 
usually  lack  order,  harmony,  consistency,  and  beauty, 
the  very  elements  and  essentials  of  a  good  character. 
They  are  those  aimless  nuisances  that  live  for  nothing, 


CHARACTER. 


257 


and  mould,  and  become  putrid,  about  the  sewers  of  the 
world.  If  aught  on  earth  is  despicable,  it  is  these 
porous  masses  of  conglomerated  filth  and  scum  that 
float  on  the  surface  of  society,  driven  or  attracted  by 
every  speck  of  circumstance  about  them.  They  are 
purposeless,  powerless,  enervated  automatons,  playing 
second  fiddle  to  chance.  One  brave  will  to  resist  evil 
and  hold  fast  to  good,  is  worth  a  million  of  them.  One 
stout  soul,  with  a  resolute  determination  to  make  its 
own  character,  after  the  pattern  of  its  own  high 
wrought  ideal,  that,  Jackson-like,  takes  the  responsi- 
bility of  being  what  suits  its  well-formed  judgment, 
is  of  more  real  significance  than  an  army  of  them.  It 
will  stand  against  them,  and  defy  their  power.  J 

Every  man  is  bound  to  aim  at  the  possession  of  a 
good  character,  as  one  of  the  highest  objects  of  his 
life.  The  very  effort  to  secure  it  by  worthy  means 
will  furnish  him  with  a  motive  for  exertion;  and  his 
idea  of  manhood,  in  proportion  as  it  is  elevated,  will 
steady  and  animate  his  motive.  It  is  well  to  have  a 
high  standard  of  life,  even  though  we  may  not  be  able 
altogether  to  realize  it.  "The  youth,"  says  Disraeli, 
"who  does  not  look  up  will  look  downj^and  the  spirit 
that  does  not  soar  is  destined,  perhaps,  to  grovel^'  He 
who  has  a  high  standard  of  living  and  thinking  will 
certainly  do  better  than  he  who  has  none  at  all.  We 
would  have  young  men,  as  they  start  in  life,  regard 
character  as  "a  capital,  much  surer  to  yield  full  returns 
than  any  other  capital,  unaffected  by  panics  and  fail- 
ures, fruitful  when  all  other  investments  lie  dormant, 
having  as  certain  promise  in  the  present  life  as  in  that 
17 


258 


CHARACTER. 


which  is  to  come.  Character  is  like  stock  in  trade; 
the  more  of  it  a  man  possesses,  the  greater  his  facil- 
ities for  adding  to  it.  Character  is  power,  is  influence: 
it  makes  friends,^£reates  funds^  draws  patronage  and 
support,  and  opens  a  sure  and  easy  way  to  wealth, 
honor  and  happiness. 

^Trifles  discover  a  character  more  than  actions  of 
importance.  In  regard  to  the  former,  a  person  is  off 
his  guard,  and  thinks  it  not  material  to  use  disguise. 
It  is  no  imperfect  hint  toward  the  discovery  of  a  man's 
character  to  say  he  looks  as  though  you  might  be  cer- 
tain of  finding  a  pin  upon  his  sleeve^  Truthfulness  is 
a  corner-stone  in  character,  and  if  it  is  not  firmly  laid 
in  youth,  there  will  be  ever  after  a  weak  spot  in  the 
foundation. 

Sum  it  up  then  as  we  will,  character  is  the  great 
desideratum  of  human  life.  This  truth,  sublime  in  its 
simplicity  and  powerful  in  its  beauty,  is  the,  highest 
lesson  of  religion,  the  first  that  youth  should  learn, 
the  last  that  age  should  forget. 

The  value  of  character  is  the  standard  of  human 
progress.  The  individual,  the  community,  the  nation 
tells  its  standing,  its  advancement,  its  worth,  its  true 
wealth  and  glory  in  the  eye  of  God  by  its  estimation 
of  character.  That  man  or  nation  who  or  which 
lightly  esteems  character,  is  low,  groveling,  and  bar- 
barous. ^Wherever  character  is  made  a  secondary 
object,  sensualism  and  crime  prevaih)  He  who  would 
prostitute  character  to  reputation  is  base.  He  who 
lives  for  any  thing  less  than  character  is  mean.  {He 
who  enters  upon  any  study,  pursuit,  amusement,  pleas- 


PRINCIPLE  AND  RIGHT. 


259 


ure,  habit,  or  course  of  life,  without  considering  its 
effect  upon  his  character,  is  not  a  trusty  or  an  honest 
maiL  He  whose  modes  of  thought,  states  of  feeling, 
every-day  acts,  common  language,  and  whole  outward 
life,  are  not  directed  by  a  wise  reference  to  their  influ- 
ence upon  his  character,  is  a  man  always  to  be  watched. 
Just  as  a  man  prizes  his  character,  so  is  he.  This  is 
the  true  standard  of  a  man. 


We  often  judge  unwisely.  We  approve  or  condemn 
men  by  their  actions.  But  it  so  happens  that  many  a 
man  whom  we  condemn,  God  approves;  and  many  a 
one  whom  we  approve,  God  condemns.  Here  below  it 
often  happens  that  we  have  saints  in  prisons  and  devils 
in  priestly  robes.  We  often  view  things  under  a  false 
sight,  and  pass  our  judgments  accordingly;  but  God* 
judges  from  behind  the  vail,  where  motives  reveal 
themselves  like  lightnings  on  a  cloud. 

Now,  right  and  might  lie  in  motive.  Personally  they 
answer  the  questions,  "Ought  I?"  and  "Can  I?"  Some 
men  ask,  "Ought  I  to  do  this?"  Others  ask,  "Can  I 
do  this?"  It  is  the  angel  that  asks,  "Ought  I  to  do 
this?"    It  is  the  devil  that  asks,  "Can  I  do  this?" 

We  all  have  good  and  bad  in  us.  The  good  would 
do  what  it  ought  to  do;  the  bad  does  what  it  can  do. 
The  good  dwells  in  the  kingdom  of  right;  the  bad  sits 


260 


PRINCIPLE  AND  RIGHT. 


on  the  throne  of  might.  Right  is  a  loyal  subject;  might 
is  a  royal  tyrant.  Right  is  the  foundation  of  the  river 
of  peace;  might  is  the  mother  of  war  and  its  abomina- 
tions. Right  is  the  evangel  of  God  that  proclaims  the 
" acceptable  year  of  the  Lord;"  might  is  the  scourge 
of  the  world  that  riots  in  carnage,  groans  and  blood. 
Right  is  the  arm  of  freedom  made  bare  and  beautiful 
in  the  eyes  of  all  the  good  in  heaven  and  earth;  might 
is  the  sword  of  power  unsheathed  in  the  hand  of  oppres- 
sion. Right  gains  its  victories  by  peace;  might  con- 
quers only  by  war.  Right  strengthens  its  army  by  the 
increase  of  all  its  conquered;  might  weakens  its  force 
by  every  victory,  as  a  part  of  its  power  must  stand 
guard  over  its  new-made  subjects.  Right  rules  by 
invitation;  might  by  compulsion.  Right  is  from  above; 
might  from  below.  Right  is  unselfish;  might  knows 
nothing  but  self.  Right  is  for  the  whole;  might  is  for 
one.  Right  is  unassuming;  might  is  pompous  as  a  king. 
Right  is  instructive;  might  is  dictatorial.  Right  reasons 
like  a  philosopher,  and  prepares  the  ground  on  which  it 
sows;  might  stalks  on  like  madness,  reckless  of  every- 
thing but  the  end  sought.  Right  is  a  lamb,  cropping 
buds  and  flowers  to  make  itself  more  beautiful;  might 
is  a  tiger  prowling  in  search  of  prey.  Right  is  a 
moralist  resting  in  principle;  might  is  a  worldling  seek- 
ing for  pleasure.  These  are  inward  principles  con- 
tending with  each  other  in  every  human  soul. 

There  are  men,  and  their  number  is  not  small,  who 
make  principle  and  right  depend  on  policy.  They  are 
honest  when  they  think  it  policy  to  be  honest.  They 
smile  when  it  is  policy,  though  they  design  to  stab  the 


PRINCIPLE  AND  RIGHT. 


261 


next  minute.  Men  of  policy  are  honest  when  it  m  con- 
venient and  plainly  profitable.  When  honesty  costs 
nothing,  and  will  pay  well,  they  are  honest;  but  when 
policy  will  pay  best,  they  give  honesty  the  slip  at  once. 
When  they  think  honesty  is  the  best  policy  they  are 
most  conscientiously  honest;  but  when  policy  will,  in 
their  judgment,  serve  them  a  better  turn,  their  con- 
sciences change  faces  very  quickly.  Principle,  right 
and  honesty  are  always,  and  everywhere,  and  eternally 
best.  It  is  hard  to  make  honesty  and  policy  work 
together  in  the  same  mind.  When  one  is  out,  the  other 
is  in.  Honesty  will  not  stay  where  policy  is  permitted 
to  visit.  They  do  not  think  or  act  alike,  and  never  can 
be  made  to  agree.  They  have  nothing  in  common. 
One  is  the  prophet  of  God,  the  other  of  Baal. 

There  are  men  who  choose  honesty  as  a  soul  com- 
panion. They  live  in  it,  and  with  it,  and  by  it.  They 
embody  it  in  their  actions  and  lives.  Their  words  speak 
it.  Their  faces  beam  it.  Their  actions  proclaim  it. 
Thei.  hands  are  true  to  it.  Their  feet  tread  its  path. 
They  are  full  of  it.  They  love  it.  -  It  is  to  them  like  a 
God.  They  believe  it  is  of  God.  With  religious  awe 
they  obey  its  behests.  Not  gold,  or  crowns,  or  fame, 
«could  bribe  them  to  leave  it.  They  are  wedded  to  it 
from  choice.  It  is  their  first  love.  It  makes  them 
"beautiful  men ;  yea,  more,  noble  men,  great,  brave, 
righteous  men.  When  God  looks  about  for  his  jewels, 
these  are  the  men  his  eye  rests  on,  well  pleased.  He 
keeps  his  angels  employed  in  making  crowns  for  them, 
and  they  make  crowns  for  themselves  too!  Crowns  of 
honesty!    To  some  men  they  seem  not  very  beautiful 


262 


VALUE  OF  REPUTATION. 


in  the  dim  light  of  earth;  but  when  the  radiance  of 
heaven  is  opened  upon  them,  they  will  reflect  it  in 
gorgeous  splendor.  Nothing  is  brighter;  nothing  is 
better ;  nothing  is  worth  more,  or  more  substantial. 
Honesty,  peerless  queen  of  principles!  how  her  smile 
enhaloes  the  men  who  love  her!  How  ready  they  are 
to  suffer  for  her,  to  die  for  her.  They  are  the  martyrs. 
See  them.  What  a  multitude!  Some  at  the  stake; 
some  in  stocks;  some  in  prison;  some  before  judges  as 
criminals;  some  on  gibbets,  and  some  on  the  cross- 
But  they  are  all  sustained.  They  smile  on  their  foes. 
They  have  peace  within.  They  are  strong  and  brave 
in  heart.  Their  souls  are  dauntless  as  the  bright 
old  sun. 


Who  shall  estimate  the  cost  of  a  priceless  reputa- 
tion— that  impress  which  gives  this  human  dross  its 
currency — without  which  we  stand  despised,  debased,, 
depreciated?  Who  shall  repair  it  injured?  Who  can 
redeem  it  lost?  Oh,  well  and  truly  does  the  great  phi- 
losopher of  poetry  esteem  the  world's  wealth  as  "trash"' 
in  the  comparison.  Without  it,  gold  has  no  value; 
birth,  no  distinction;  station,  no  dignity;  beauty,  no 
charm;  age,  no  reverence;  without  it  every  treasure 
impoverishes,  every  grace  deforms,  every  dignity  de 
grades,  and  all  the  arts,  the  decorations,  and  accom> 


VALUE  OF  REPUTATION. 


263 


plishments  of  life  stand,  like  the  beacon-blaze  upon  a 
rock,  warning  the  world  that  its  approach  is  dangerous ; 
that  its  contact  is  death. 

The  wretch  without  it  is  under  eternal  quarantine; 
no  friend  to  greet;  no  home  to  harbor  him.  The 
voyage  of  his  life  becomes  a  joyless  peril;  and  in  the 
midst  of  all  ambition  can  achieve,  or  avarice  amass,  or 
rapacity  plunder,  he  tosses  on  the  surge,  a  buoyant 
-pestilence.  But  let  me  not  degrade  into  selfishness  of 
individual  safety  or  individual  exposure  this  individual 
principle;  it  testifies  a  higher,  a  more  ennobling  origin. 

It  is  this  which,  consecrating  the  humble  circle  of  the 
hearth,  will  at  times  extend  itself  to  the  circumference 
of  the  horizon;  which  nerves  the  arm  of  the  patriot  to 
save  his  country;  which  lights  the  lamp  of  the  philoso- 
pher to  amend  man;  which,  if  it  does  not  inspire,  will 
yet  invigorate  the  martyr  to  merit  immortality;  which,, 
when  one  world's  agony  is  passed,  and  the  glory  of 
another  is  dawning,  will  prompt  the  prophet,  even  in 
his  chariot  of  fire,  and  in  his  vision  of  Heaven,  ta 
bequeath  to  mankind  the  mantle  of  his  memory! 

Oh,  divine!  oh,  delightful  legacy  of  a  spotless  repu- 
tation !  Rich  is  the  inheritance  it  leaves ;  pious  the 
example  it  testifies;  pure,  precious,  and  imperishable, 
the  hope  which  it  inspires !  Can  there  be  conceived  a 
more  atrocious  injury  than  to  filch  from  its  possessor  this 
inestimable  benefit — to  rob  society  of  its  charm,  and 
solitude  of  its  solace;  not  only  to  outlaw  life,  but  to 
attaint  death,  converting  the  very  grave,  the  refuge  of 
the  sufferer,  into  the  gate  of  infamy  and  of  shame! 

We  can  conceive  few  crimes  beyond  it.  He  who  plun- 


264 


FAME. 


ders  my  property  takes  from  me  that  which  can  be 
repaired  by  time;  but  what  period  can  repair  a  ruined 
reputation?  He  who  maims  my  person,  affects  that 
which  medicine  may  remedy ;  but  what  herb  has 
sovereignty  over  the  wounds  of  slander  ?  He  who 
ridicules  my  poverty,  or  reproaches  my  profession, 
upbraids  me  with  that  which  industry  may  retrieve, 
and  integrity  may  purify ;  but  what  riches  shall 
redeem  the  bankrupt  fame?  What  power  shall  blanch 
the  sullied  snow  of  character  ?  There  can  be  no 
injury  more  deadly.  There  can  be  no  crime  more 
cruel.  It  is  without  remedy.  It  is  without  antidote. 
It  is  without  evasion. 

The  reptile,  calumny,  is  ever  on  the  watch.  From 
the  fascinations  of  its  eye  no  activity  can  escape;  from 
the  venom  of  its  fang  no  sanity  can  recover.  It  has  no 
enjoyment  but  crime;  it  has  no  prey  but  virtue;  it  has 
no  interval  from  the  restlessness  of  its  malice,  save 
when  bloated  with  its  victims,  it  grovels  to  disgorge 
them  at  the  withered  shrine  where  envy  idolizes  her 
own  infirmities. 


Though  fame  is  smoke, 
Its  fumes  are  frankincense  to  human  thoughts. 

— Byron. 

Fame,  like  money,  should  neither  be  despised  or 
idolized.    An  honest  fame,  based  op  worth  and  merit, 


FAME. 


265 


and  gained,  like  large  estates,  by  prudence  and  indus- 
try, deservedly  perpetuates  the  names  of  the  great  and 
good. 

No  glory  or  fame  is  both  consolatory  and  enduring, 
unless  based  on  virtue,  wisdom,  and  justice.  That 
acquired  by  wild  ambition,  is  tarnished  by  associ- 
ation— time  deepens  the  stain.  We  read  the  biog- 
raphy of  Washington  with  calmness  and  delight;  that 
of  Bonaparte,  with  mingled  feelings  of  admiration  and 
abhorrence.  We  admire  the  gigantic  powers  of  his 
intellect,  the  vastness  of  his  designs,  the  boldness  of 
their  execution;  but  turn,  with  horror,  from  the  slaugh- 
ter-fields of  his  ambition,  and  his  own  dreadful  end. 
His  giddy  height  of  power  served  to  plunge  him 
deeper  in  misery;  his  lofty  ambition  increased  the 
burning  tortures  of  his  exile;  his  towering  intellect 
added  a  duplicate  force  to  the  consuming  pangs  of 
his  disappointment.  His  fatal  end  should  cool  the 
ardor  of  all  who  have  an  inordinate  desire  for  earthly 
glory. 

The  praises  and  commendations  of  intimates  and 
friends,  are  the  greatest  and  most  impassable  obstacles 
to  real  superiority.  Better  were  it,  that  they  should 
whip  us  with  cords  and  drive  us  to  work,  than  that 
they  should  extol  and  exaggerate  our  childish  scintil- 
lations and  puerile  achievements. 

False  fame  is  the  rushlight  which  we,  or  our  attend- 
ants, kindle  in  our  apartments.  We  witness  its  feeble 
burning,  and  its  gradual  but  certain  decline.  It  glim- 
mers for  a  little  while,  when,  with  flickering  and 
palpitating  radiance,  it  soon  expires. 


266 


FAME. 


Egotism  and  vanity  detract  from  fame  as  ostentation 
diminishes  the  merit  of  an  action.  He  that  is  vain 
enough  to  cry  up  himself,  ought  to  be  punished  with 
the  silence  of  others.  We  soil  the  splendor  of  our 
most  beautiful  actions  by  our  vain-glorious  magnifying; 
them.  There  is  no  vice  or  folly  that  requires  so  much 
nicety  and  skill  to  manage  as  fame,  nor  any  which,  by 
ill  management,  makes  so  contemptible  a  figure.  The 
desire  of  being  thought  famous  is  often  a  hindrance  to 
being  so;  for  such  an  one  is  more  solicitous  to  let  the 
world  see  what  knowledge  he  hath  than  to  learn  that 
which  he  wants.  Men  are  found  to  be  vainer  on 
account  of  those  qualities  which  they  fondly  believe 
they  have,  than  of  those  which  they  really  have. 
Some  would  be  thought  to  do  great  things,  who  are 
but  tools  or  instruments;  like  the  fool  who  fancied 
he  played  upon  the  organ,  when  he  only  drew  the 
bellows. 

Be  not  so  greedy  of  popular  applause,  as  to  forget 
that  the  same  breath  which  blows  up  a  fire  may  blow 
it  out  again.  True  fame  is  the  light  of  heaven.  It 
cometh  from  afar,  it  shines  powerfully  and  brightly, 
but  not  always  without  clouds  and  shadows,  which 
interpose,  but  do  not  destroy;  eclipse,  but  do  not  extin- 
guish. Like  the  glorious  sun,  it  will  continue  to  diffuse 
its  beams  when  we  are  no  more;  for  other  eyes  will 
hail  the  light,  when  we  are  withdrawn  from  it. 

Great  and  decided  talent  is  a  tower  of  strength 
which  cannot  be  subverted.  Envy,  detraction,  and 
persecution  are  missiles  hurled  against  it  only  to  fall 
harmless  at  its  base,  and  to  strengthen  what  they 


FAME. 


267 


cannot  overthrow.  It  seeks  not  the  applause  of  the 
present  moment,  in  which  folly  or  mediocrity  often 
secure  the  preference;  but  it  extends  its  bright  and 
prophetic  vision  through  the  "dark  obscure"  of  dis- 
tant time,  and  bequeaths  to  remote  generations  the 
vindication  of  its  honor  and  fame,  and  the  clear 
comprehension  of  its  truths. 

No  virtues  and  learning  are  inherited,  but  rather 
ignorance  and  misdirected  inclinations;  and  assiduous 
and  persevering  labor  must  correct  these  defects,  and 
make  a  fruitful  garden  of  that  soil  which  is  naturally 
encumbered  with  stones  and  thistles.  All  home-tri- 
umphs and  initiatory  efforts  are  nothing  worth.  That 
which  is  great,  commanding,  and  lasting,  must  be  won 
by  stubborn  energy,  by  patient  industry,  by  unwearied 
application,  and  by  indefatigable  zeal.  We  must  lie 
down  and  groan,  and  get  up  and  toil.  It  is  a  long 
race,  not  a  pleasant  walk,  and  the  prize  is  not  a  leaf 
or  a  bauble,  but  a  chaplet  or  a  crown.  The  spectators 
are  not  friends,  but  foes;  and  the  contest  is  one  in 
which  thousands  fall  through  weakness  and  want  of 
real  force  and  courage* 

We  may  add  virtue  to  virtue,  strength  to  strength, 
and  knowledge  to  knowledge,  and  yet  fail,  and  soon 
be  lost  and  forgotten  in  that  mighty  and  soul-testing 
struggle,  in  which  few  come  off  conquerors  and  win 
an  enduring  and  imperishable  name.  If  we  embark 
on  this  course,  we  shall  need  stout  hearts  conjoined 
with  invincible  minds.  We  must  bid  adieu  to  vice, 
to  sloth,  to  flatteries  and  ease, 

"And  scorn  delights  and  live  laborious  days." 


268 


AMBITION. 


He  who  ascends  to  mountain-tops,  shall  find 
The  loftiest  peaks  most  wrapt  in  clouds  and  snow; 
He  who  surpasses  or  subdues  mankind, 
Must  look  down  on  the  hate  of  those  below. 

—  Byron. 

Some  conceited  wights,  who  study  party  politics 
more  than  philosophy  or  ethics,  call  all  the  laudable 
desires  of  the  human  heart  ambition,  aiming  to  strip 
the  monster  of  its  deformity,  that  they  may  use  it  as 
the  livery  of  heaven  to  serve  the  devil  in.  The  former 
are  based  on  philanthropy,  the  latter  on  selfishness. 
Lexicographers  define  ambition  to  be  an  earnest  desire 
of  power,  honor,  preferment,  pride.  The  honor  that 
is  awarded  to  power  is  of  doubtful  grandeur,  and  the 
power  that  is  acquired  by  ambition  is  held  by  a  slender 
tenure,  a  mere  rope  of  sand.  Its  hero  often  receives 
the  applause  of  the  multitude  one  day,  and  its  execra- 
tions the  next.  The  summit  of  vain  ambition  is  often 
the  depth  of  misery.  Based  on  a  sandy  foundation,  it 
falls  before  the  blasts  of  envy,  and  the  tornado  of 
faction.  It  is  inflated  by  a  gaseous  thirst  for  power, 
like  a  balloon  with  hydrogen,  and  is  in  constant  danger 
of  being  exploded  by  the  very  element  that  causes  its 
elevation.  It  eschews  charity,  and  deals  largely  in  the 
corrosive  sublimate  of  falsehood.  Like  the  kite,  it 
cannot  rise  in  a  calm,  and  requires  a  constant  wind  to 
preserve  its  upward  course.  The  fulcrum  of  igno- 
rance, and  the  lever  of  party  spirit,  form  its  magic 
power.     An  astute  writer  has  well  observed ,  that 


AMBITION. 


269 


"ambition  makes  the  same  mistake  concerning  power, 
that  avarice  makes  relative  to  wealth."  The  ambi- 
tious man  begins  by  accumulating  it  as  the  desideratum 
of  happiness,  and  ends  his  career  in  the  midst  of  exer- 
tions to  obtain  more.  So  ended  the  onward  and  up- 
ward career  of  Napoleon;  his  life  a  modern  wonder; 
his  fate  a  fearful  warning;  his  death  a  scene  of  gloom. 
Power  is  gained  as  a  means  of  enjoyment,  but  oftener 
than  otherwise,  is  its  fell  destroyer.  Like  the  viper  in 
the  fable,  it  is  prone  to  sting  those  who  warm  it  into 
life.  History  fully  demonstrates  these  propositions. 
Hyder  Ali  was  in  the  habit  of  starting  frightfully  in  his 
sleep.  His  confidential  friend  and  attendant  asked  the 
reason.  He  replied:  "My  friend,  the  state  of  a  beggar 
is  more  delightful  than  my  envied  monarchy — awake, 
he  sees  no  conspirators — asleep,  he  dreams  of  no  assas- 
sins." Ambition,  like  the  gold  of  the  miser,  is  the 
sepulchre  of  the  other  passions  of  the  man.  It  is  the 
grand  centre  around  which  they  move  with  centripetal 
force.  Its  history  is  one  of  carnage  and  blood;  it  is 
the  bane  of  substantial  good;  it  endangers  body  and 
soul  for  time  and  eternity.  Reader,  if  you  desire  peace 
of  mind,  shun  ambition  and  the  ambitious  man.  He 
will  use  you  as  some  men  do  their  horses,  ride  you  all 
day  without  food,  and  give  you  post  meat  for  supper. 
He  will  gladly  make  a  bridge  of  you  on  which  to  walk 
into  power,  provided  he  can  pass  toll  free.  Let  your 
ftim  be  more  lofty  than  the  highest  pinnacle  ambition 
can  rear.  Nothing  is  pure  but  heaven,  let  that  be  the 
prize  you  seek, 


270 


AVARICE. 


"  And  taste  and  prove  in  that  transporting  sight, 
Joy  without  sorrow,  without  darkness  —  light." 

The  road  ambition  travels  is  too  narrow  for  friend- 
ship, too  crooked  for  love,  too  rugged  for  honesty,  too 
dark  for  science,  and  too  hilly  for  happiness. 


A  judicious  writer  has  well  remarked,  that  avarice 
is  the  father  of  more  children  than  Priam,  and,  like 
him,  survives  them  all.  It  is  a  paradoxical  propensity, 
a  species  of  heterogeneous  insanity.  The  miser  starves 
himself,  knowing  that  those  who  wish  him  dead  will 
fatten  on  his  hoarded  gains.  He  submits  to  more 
torture  to  lose  heaven  than  the  martyr  does  to  gain  it. 
He  serves  the  worst  of  tyrannical  masters  more  faith- 
fully than  most  Christians  do  the  best,  whose  yoke  is 
easy  and  burden  light.  He  worships  this  world,  but 
repudiates  all  its  pleasures.  He  endures  all  the  miseries 
of  poverty  through  life,  that  he  may  die  in  the  midst 
of  wealth.  He  is  the  mere  turnkey  of  his  own  riches — - 
a  poorly-fed  and  badly-clothed  slave;  a  draught-horse 
without  bells  or  feathers;  a  man  condemned  to  work 
in  mines,  which  is  the  lowest  and  hardest  condition  of 
servitude;  and,  to  increase  his  misery,  a  worker  there 
for  he  knows  not  whom.  "He  heapeth  up  riches  and 
knows  not  who  shall  enjoy  them."  It  is  only  sure  that 
he  himself  neither  shall  nor  can  enjoy  them.    He  is  an 


AVARICE. 


271 


indigent,  needy  slave;  he  will  hardly  allow  himself 
clothes  and  board  wages.  He  defrauds  not  only  other 
men,  but  his  own  genius;  he  cheats  himself  for  money. 
He  lives  as  if  the  world  were  made  altogether  for  him, 
and  not  he  for  the  world;  to  take  in  everything  and  to 
part  with  nothing.  Charity  is  accounted  no  grace  with 
him,  and  gratitude  no  virtue.  The  cries  of  the  poor 
never  enter  his  ears,  or  if  they  do,  he  has  always  one 
ear  readier  to  let  them  out  than  the  other  to  take  them 
in.  In  a  word,  by  his  rapines  and  extortions  he  is 
always  for  making  as  many  poor  as  he  can,  but  for 
relieving  none  whom  he  either  finds  or  makes  so.  So 
that  it  is  a  question  whether  his  heart  be  harder  or  his 
fist  closer.  In  a  word,  he  is  a  pest  and  a  monster; 
greedier  than  the  sea  and  barrener  than  the  shore.  He 
is  the  cocoon  of  the  human  race  —  death  ends  his  toils 
and  others  reel  off  the  glossy  product  of  his  labors. 
He  is  the  father  of  more  miseries  than  the  prodigal — 
whilst  he  lives  he  heaps  them  on  himself  and  those 
around  him.   He  is  his  own  and  the  poor  man's  enemy. 

The  avarice  of  the  miser  may  be  termed  the  grand 
sepulchre  of  all  his  other  passions,  as  they  successively 
decay.  But,  unlike  other  tombs,  it  is  enlarged  by 
repletion  and  strengthened  by  age.  His  mind  is  never 
expanded  beyond  the  circumference  of  the  almighty 
dollar.  He  thinks  not  of  his  immortal  soul,  his  account- 
ability to  God,  or  of  his  final  destiny.  He  covets  the 
wealth  of  others,  revels  in  extortion,  stops  at  nothing 
to  gratify  his  ruling  passion,  that  will  not  endanger  his 
dear  idol.  He  is  an  Ishmael  in  community — he  passes 
to  the  grave  without  tasting  the  sweets  of  friendship, 


272 


GAMBLING. 


the  delights  of  social  intercourse,  or  the  comforts  of  a 
good  repast,  unless  the  latter  is  got  by  invitation,  when 
abroad.  The  first  voluntary  expenditure  upon  his 
body,  during  his  manhood,  and  the  first  welcome  visit 
of  his  neighbors,  both  passive  on  his  part,  are  at  his 
funeral. 

If  we  would  enjoy  the  comforts  of  life  rationally,  we 
must  avoid  the  miseries  of  avarice  and  the  evils  of 
prodigality.  Let  us  use  the  provisions  of  our  benevo- 
lent Benefactor  without  abusing  them,  and  render  to 
Him  that  gratitude  which  is  His  due.  Banish  all 
inordinate  desires  after  wealth — if  you  gain  an  abund- 
ance, be  discreetly  liberal,  judiciously  benevolent,  and, 
if  your  children  have  arrived  at  their  majority,  die  your 
own  executor. 


Every  device  that  suddenly  changes  money  or 
property  from  one  person  to  another  without  a  quid 
fro  quo,  or  leaving  an  equivalent,  produces  individual 
embarrassment  —  often  extreme  misery.  More  per- 
nicious is  that  plan,  if  it  changes  property  and  money 
from  the  hands  of  the  many  to  the  few. 

Gambling  does  this,  and  often  inflicts  a  still  greater 
injury,  by  poisoning  its  victims  with  vice,  that  event- 
ually lead  to  crimes  of  the  darkest  hue.  Usually,  the 
money  basely  niched  from  its  victims,  is  the  smallest 


GAMBLING. 


273 


part  of  the  injury  inflicted.  It  almost  inevitably  leads 
to  intemperance:  Every  species  of  offense,  on  the 
black  catalogue  of  crime,  may  be  traced  to  the  gam- 
bling table,  as  the  entering  wedge  to  its  perpetration. 

This  alarming  evil  is  as  wide-spread  as  our  country. 
It  is  practiced  from  the  humblest  water  craft  that  floats 
on  our  canals  up  to  the  majestic  steamboat  on  our 
mighty  rivers;  from  the  lowest  groggeries  that  curse 
the  community,  up  to  the  most  fashionable  hotels  that 
claim  respectability;  from  the  hod  carrier  in  his 
bespattered  rags,  up  to  the  honorable  members  of 
congress  in  their  ruffles.  Like  a  mighty  maelstrom, 
its  motion,  at  the  outside,  is  scarcely  perceptible,  but 
soon  increases  to  a  fearful  velocity;  suddenly  the  awful 
center  is  reached — the  victim  is  lost  in  the  vortex. 
Interested  friends  may  warn,  the  wife  may  entreat, 
with  all  the  eloquence  of  tears;  children  may  cling 
and  cry  for  bread — once  in  the  fatal  snare,  the  victim 
of  gamblers  is  seldom  saved.  He  combines  the  deaf- 
ness of  the  adder  with  the  desperation  of  a  maniac, 
and  rushes  on,  regardless  of  danger — reckless  of 
consequences. 

To  the  fashionable  of  our  country,  who  play  cards 
and  other  games  as  an  innocent  amusement,  we  may 
trace  the  most  aggravated  injuries  resulting  from  gam- 
bling. It  is  there  that  young  men  of  talents,  education, 
and  wealth,  take  the  degree  of  entered  apprentice. 
The  example  of  men  in  high  life,  men  in  public  sta- 
tions and  responsible  offices,  has  a  powerful  and  cor- 
rupting influence  on  society,  and  does  much  to  increase 
the  evil,  and  forward,  as  well  as  sanction  the  high- 
18 


274 


GAMBLING. 


tianded  robbery  of  fine  dressed  blacklegs.  The  gam- 
bling hells  in  our  cities,  tolerated  and  patronized,  are 
a  disgrace  to  a  nation  bearing  a  Christian  name,  and 
would  be  banished  from  a  Pagan  community. 

Gambling  assumes  a  great  variety  of  forms,  from 
the  flipping  of  a  cent  in  the  bar  room  for  a  glass  of 
whisky,  up  to  the  splendidly  furnished  faro  bank  room, 
where  men  are  occasionally  swindled  to  the  tune  of 
""ten  thousand  a  year,"  and  sometimes  a  much  larger 
amount.  In  addition  to  these  varieties,  we  have  legal- 
ized lotteries  and  fancy  stock  brokers,  and  among  those 
who  manage  them,  professors  of  religion  are  not 
unfrequently  found. 

Thousands  who  carefully  shun  the  monster  under 
any  other  form,  pay  a  willing  tribute  to  the  tyrant  at 
the  shrine  of  lotteries.  Persons  from  all  classes  throw 
their  money  into  this  vault  of  uncertainty,  this  whirl- 
pool of  speculation,  with  a  less  chance  to  regain  it  than 
when  at  the  detested  faro  bank.  It  is  here  that  the 
poor  man  spends  his  last  dollar  ;  it  is  here  that  the  rich 
often  become  poor,  for  a  man  has  ten  chances  to  be 
killed  by  lightning  where  he  has  one  to  draw  a  capital 
prize.  The  ostensible  objects  of  lotteries  are  always 
praiseworthy.  Meeting  houses,  hospitals,  seminaries 
of  learning,  internal  improvement,  some  laudable  enter- 
prize,  may  always  be  found  first  and  foremost  in  a  lot- 
tery scheme;  the  most  ingenious  and  most  fatal  gull 
trap  ever  invented  by  man  or  devil. 

Gaming  cowers  in  darkness,  and  often  blots  out  all 
£he  nobler  powers  of  the  heart,  paralyzes  its  sensibili- 
ties to  human  woe,  severs  the  sacred  ties  that  bind  man 


GAMBLING. 


275 


to  man,  to  woman,  to  family,  to  community,  to  morals, 
to  religion,  to  social  order,  and  to  country.  It  trans- 
forms men  to  brutes,  desperadoes,  maniacs,  misan' 
thropists,  and  strips  human  nature  of  all  its  native 
dignity.  The  gamester  forfeits  the  happiness  of  this 
life  and  endures  the  penalties  of  sin  in  both  worlds. 
His  profession  is  the  scavenger  of  avarice,  haggard  and 
filthy,  badly  fed,  poorly  clad,  and  worse  paid. 

Let  me  entreat  all  to  shun  the  monster,  under  all  his 
borrowed  and  deceptive  forms.  Remember  that  gam- 
bling for  amusement  is  the  wicket  gate  into  the  laby- 
rinth, and  when  once  in,  you  may  find  it  difficult  to  get 
out.  Ruin  is  marked  in  blazing  capitals  over  the  door 
of  the  gambler;  his  hell  is  the  vestibule  to  that  eternal 
hell  where  the  worm  clieth  not  and  the  fire  is  not 
quenched.  If  you  regard  your  own,  and  the  happiness 
of  your  family  and  friends,  and  the  salvation  of  your 
immortal  soul,  recoil  from  even  the  shadow  of  a  shade 
reflected  by  this  heaven-daring,  heart-breaking,  soul- 
destroying,  fashionable,  but  ruinous  vice. 

An  evil  that  starts  upon  a  wrong  principle,  the  vital 
element  of  which  is  injustice,  must  have  a  vast  pro- 
ductive force  in  creating  other  evils.  It  is  necessarily 
a  mighty  agency  in  destroying  all  that  is  good  in  the 
soul;  vitiating  the  whole  character,  and  dragging  down 
every  lofty  purpose  and  noble  aspiration.  And  we  find 
that  the  gambler  is  rapidly  qualified  for  every  other 
species  of  wickedness.  The  fiery  excitement  to  which 
he  yields  himself  in  the  game-room  inflames  every 
other  passion.  It  produces  a  state  of  mind  that  can  be 
satisfied  only  with  intense  and  forbidden  pleasures.  It 


276 


GAMBLING. 


virtually  takes  him  out  of  the  circle  of  refined,  rational 
enjoyment  and  plunges  him  into  scenes  more  congenial 
to  a  corrupt  taste.  He  would  gladly  witness  as  a 
pastime  bull  fights,  pugilistic  contests;  and  perhaps  his 
craving  for  excitement  could  only  be  fully  satisfied  by 
scenes  such  as  Roman  persecutors  and  heathen  specta- 
tors formerly  feasted  upon,  in  which  men  and  women 
were  torn  in  pieces  by  wild  beasts.  Such  bloody 
encounters  and  horrid  tragedies  might  come  up  to  his 
standard  of  amusement. 

Thus  does  the  giant  vice  uncivilize  a  man  and  throw 
him  back  into  a  state  of  barbarism.  It  revolutionizes 
his  tastes  at  the  same  time  that  it  casts  down  his  moral 
principles.  If  its  victim  has  been  in  early  life  under 
the  influence  of  religious  sentiment,  it  speedily  obliter- 
ates those  sentiments  from  the  mind.  If  the  voice  of 
conscience  has  been  in  the  past  years  heard,  that  voice 
is  now  silenced.  If  feelings  of  humanity  once  had 
influence,  their  power  is  now  gone.  If  visions  of 
extensive  usefulness  and  honorable  achievement  once 
floated  in  the  imagination  they  have  vanished ;  vanished 
in  the  distance,  never  to.  return. 

Nor  should  the  youth  forget  that  if  he  is  once  taken 
in  the  coils  of  this  vice,  the  hope  of  extricating  himself, 
or  of  realizing  his  visions  of  wealth  and  happiness,  is 
exceedingly  faint.  He  has  no  rational  grounds  to 
expect  that  he  can  escape  the  terrible  consequences 
that  are  inseparably  connected  with  this  sin.  If  he 
does  not  become  bankrupt  in  property,  he  is  sure  to 
become  one  in  character  and  in  moral  principle;  he 
becomes  a  debauched,  debased,  friendless  vagabond. 


TEMPER. 


277 


Good  temper  is  like  a  sunny  day,  it  sheds  its  bright- 
ness on  everything.  No  trait  of  character  is  more 
valuable  than  the  possession  of  good  temper.  Home 
can  never  be  made  happy  without  it.  It  is  like  flowers 
springing  up  in  our  pathway,  reviving  and  cheering  us. 
Kind  words  and  looks  are  the  outward  demonstration; 
patience  and  forbearance  are  the  sentinels  within. 

If  a  man  has  a  quarrelsome  temper,  let  him  alone. 
The  world  will  soon  find  him  employment.  He  will 
soon  meet  with  some  one  stronger  than  himself,  who 
will  repay  him  better  than  you  can.  A  man  may  fight 
duels  all  his  life  if  he  is  disposed  to  quarrel.  How 
sweet  the  serenity  of  habitual  self-command !  How 
many  stinging  self-reproaches  it  spares  us!  When  does 
a  man  feel  more  at  ease  with  himself  than  when  he  has 
passed  through  a  sudden  and  strong  provocation  with- 
out speaking  a  -word,  or  in  undisturbed  good  humor ! 
When,  on  the  contrary,  does  he  feel  a  deeper  humilia- 
tion than  when  he  is  conscious  that  anger  has  made 
him  betray  himself  b}r  word,  look  or  action?  Nervous 
irritability  is  the  greatest  weakness  of  character.  It  is 
the  sharp  grit  which  aggravates  friction  and  cuts  out 
the  bearings  of  the  entire  human  machine.  Nine  out 
of  every  ten  men  we  meet  are  in  a  chronic  state  of 
annoyance.  The  least  untoward  thing  sets  them  in  a 
ferment. 

There  are  people,  yes  many  people,  always  looking 
out  for  slights.    They  cannot  carry  on  the  daily  inter. 


278 


TEMPER. 


course  of  the  family  without  rinding  that  some  offense 
is  designed.  They  are  as  touchy  as  hair  triggers.  If 
they  meet  an  acquaintance  who  happens  to  be  pre- 
occupied with  business,  they  attribute  his  abstraction 
in  some  mode  personal  to  themselves  and  take  umbrage 
accordingly.  They  lay  on  others  the  fruit  of  their 
irritability.  Indigestion  makes  them  see  impertinence 
in  every  one  they  come  in  contact  with.  Innocent  per- 
sons, who  never  dreamed  of  giving  offense,  are  aston- 
ished to  find  some  unfortunate  word,  or  momentary 
taciturnity,  mistaken  for  an  insult.  To  say  the  least^ 
the  habit  is  unfortunate.  It  is  far  wiser  to  take  the 
more  charitable  view  of  our  fellow  beings,  and  not  sup- 
pose that  a  slight  is  intended  unless  the  neglect  is  open 
and  direct.  After  all,  too,  life  takes  its  hues  in  a  great 
degree  from  the  color  of  our  own  mind.  If  we  are 
frank  and  generous,  the  world  will  treat  us  kindly;  if^ 
on  the  contrary,  we  are  suspicious,  men  learn  to  be 
cold  and  cautious  to  us.  Let  a  person  get  the  reputa- 
tion of  being  "touchy,"  and  everybody  is  under 
restraint,  and  in  this  way  the  chances  of  an  imaginary 
offense  are  vastly  increased. 

Do  you  not  find  in  households — refined,  many  of 
them — many  women  who  are  jealous,  exacting,  ancl 
have  a  temper  that  will  be  swayed  by  nothing?  And 
do  we  not  see  in  another  family  circle,  a  man  as  coarse 
and  bloody-mouthed  as  a  despot?  The  purpose  of  the 
existence  of  a  score  of  people  is  to  make  him  happy,, 
fan  him,  feed  him,  amuse  him,  and  he  stands  as  a  great 
absorbent  of  the  life  and  heat  that  belongs  to  the  rest. 
Many  sermons  tell  you  to  be  meek  and  humble,  but 


TEMPER. 


you  do  n't  hear  many  which  tell  you  you  live  in  your 
families  to  growl,  to  bite,  and  to  worry  one  another.. 
You  ought  to  make  in  your  households  the  outward 
and  visible  life-work  for  this  spiritual  and  transcendent 
life.  There  can  be  nothing  too  graceful  and  truthful,, 
generous,  disinterested  and  gracious  for  the  household. 
All  that  a  man  expects  to  be  in  heaven,  he  ought  to  try 
to  be  from  day  to  day  with  his  wife  and  children,  and 
with  those  that  are  members  of  his  family. 

It  is  said  of  Socrates,  that  whether  he  was  teaching 
the  rules  of  an  exact  morality,  whether  he  was  answer- 
ing his  corrupt  judges,  or  was  receiving  sentence  of 
death,  or  swallowing  the  poison,  he  was  still  the  same 
man;  that  is  to  say,  calm,  quiet,  undisturbed,  intrepid5, 
in  a  word,  wise  to  the  last. 

A  man  once  called  at  the  house  of  Pericles  and' 
abused  him  violently.  His  anger  so  transcended  him. 
that  he  did  not  observe  how  late  it  was  growing,  and 
when  he  had  exhausted  his  passion  it  was  quite  dark. 
When  he  turned  to  depart,  Pericles  calmly  summoned 
a  servant  and  said  to  him,  "Bring  a  lamp  and  attend 
this  man  home." 

Like  flakes  of  snow  that  fall  unperceived  upon  the 
earth,  the  seemingly  unimportant  events  of  life  succeed 
one  another.  As  the  snow  gathers  together,  so  are  our 
habits  formed.  No  single  flake  that  is  added  to  the 
pile  produces  a  sensible  change.  No  single  action 
creates,  however  it  may  exhibit  a  man's  character;  but 
as  the  tempest  hurls  the  avalanche  down  the  mountain,, 
and  overwhelms  the  inhabitant  and  his  habitation,  so 
passion,  acting  upon  the  elements  of  mischief  which 


280 


TEMPER. 


pernicious  habits  have  brought  together  by  impercepti- 
ble accumulation,  may  overthrow  the  edifice  of  truth 
and  virtue. 

Truly,  a  man  ought  to  be,  above  all  things,  kind  and 
gentle,  but  however  meek  he  is  required  to  be,  he  also 
ought  to  remember  that  he  is  a  man.  There  are  many 
persons  to  whom  we  do  not  need  to  tell  this  truth,  for 
as  soon  as  they  only  think  of  having  been  offended  or 
that  somebody  has  done  them  any  harm,  they  fly  up 
like  gunpowder.  Long  before  the}'  know  for  a  cer- 
tainty that  there  is  a  thief  in  the  garden  they  have  the 
window  open  and  the  old  gun  has  been  popped.  It  is  a 
very  dangerous  thing  to  have  such  neighbors,  for  we 
could  sit  more  safely  on  the  horns  of  a  bull  than  to  live 
in  quietness  with  such  characters.  We,  therefore,  should 
form  no  friendship  with  persons  of  a  wrathful  temper, 
and  go  no  farther  than  is  needful  with  a  man  of  a  fiery 
and  unrestrained  spirit.  Solomon  said,  "  He  that  is 
slow  to  wrath  is  of  great  understanding,  but  he  that  is 
hasty  of  spirit  exalteth  folly." 

Our  advice  is,  to  keep  cool  under  all  circumstances, 
if  possible.  Much  may  be  effected  by  cultivation.  We 
should  learn  to  command  our  feelings  and  act  prudently 
in  all  the  ordinary  concerns  of  life.  This  will  better 
prepare  us  to  meet  sudden  emergencies  with  calmness 
and  fortitude.  If  we  permit  our  feelings  to  be  ruffled 
and  disconcerted  in  small  matters,  they  will  be  thrown 
into  a  whirlwind  when  big  events  overtake  us.  Our 
best  antidote  is,  implicit  confidence  in  God. 


ANGER. 


281 


It  does  no  good  to  get  angry.  Some  sins  have  a 
seeming  compensation  or  apology,  a  present  gratifica- 
tion of  some  sort,  but  anger  has  none.  A  man  feels 
no  better  for  it.  It  is  really  a  torment,  and  when  the 
storm  of  passion  has  cleared  away,  it  leaves  one  to  see 
that  he  has  been  a  fool.  And  he  has  made  himself  a 
fool  in  the  eyes  of  others  too. 

Sinful  anger,  when  it  becomes  strong,  is  called  wrath; 
when  it  makes  outrages,  it  is  fury;  when  it  becomes 
fixed,  it  is  termed  hatred;  and  when  it  intends  to  injure 
any  one,  it  is  called  malice.  All  these  wicked  passions 
spring  from  anger.  The  continuance  and  frequent  fits 
of  anger  produce  an  evil  habit  in  the  soul,  a  propensity 
to  be  angry,  which  oftentimes  ends  in  choler,  bitter- 
ness, and  morosity;  when  the  mind  becomes  ulcerated, 
peevish,  and  querulous,  and  like  a  thin,  weak  plate  of 
iron,  receives  impressions,  and  is  wounded  by  the  least 
occurrence. 

Anger  is  such  a  headstrong  and  impetuous  passion, 
that  the  ancients  call  it  a  short  madness;  and  indeed 
there  is  no  difference  between  an  angry  man  and  a 
madman  while  the  fit  continues,  because  both  are  void 
of  reason  and  blind  for  that  season.  It  is  a  disease 
that,  where  it  prevails,  is  no  less  dangerous  than 
deforming  to  us;  it  swells  the  face,  it  agitates  the 
body,  and  inflames  the  blood;  and  as  the  evil  spirit 
mentioned  in  the  Gospel  threw  the  possessed  into  the 
fire  or  the  water,  so  it  casts  us  into  all  kinds  of  danger. 


282 


ANGER. 


It  too  often  ruins  or  subverts  whole  families,  towns, 
cities,  and  kingdoms.  It  is  a  vice  that  very  few  can 
conceal;  and  if  it  does  not  betray  itself  by  such  exter- 
nal signs  as  paleness  of  the  countenance  and  trembling 
of  the  limbs,  it  is  more  impetuous  within,  and  by 
gnawing  in  the  heart  injures  the  body  and  the  mind 
very  much. 

No  man  is  obliged  to  live  so  free  from  passion  as 
not  to  show  some  resentment;  and  it  is  rather  stoical 
stupidity  than  virtue,  to  do  otherwise.  Anger  may 
glance  into  the  breast  of  a  wise  man,  but  rests  only  in 
the  bosom  of  fools.  Fight  hard  against  a  hasty  temper. 
Anger  will  come,  but  resist  it  strongly.  A  spark  may 
set  a  house  on  fire.  A  fit  of  passion  may  give  you 
cause  to  mourn  all  the  days  of  your  life.  Never 
revenge  an  injury.  When  Socrates  found  in  himself 
any  disposition  to  anger,  he  would  check  it  by  speak- 
ing low,  in  opposition  to  the  motions  of  his  displeasure. 
If  you  are  conscious  of  being  in  a  passion,  keep  your 
mouth  shut,  for  words  increase  it.  Many  a  person  has 
dropped  dead  in  a  rage.  Fits  of  anger  bring  fits  of 
disease.  "Whom  the  gods  would  destroy  they  first 
make  mad,"  and  the  example  is  a  good  one  for  our 
imitation.  If  you  would  demolish  an  opponent  in 
argument,  first  make  him  as  mad  as  you  can.  Dr. 
Fuller  used  to  say  that  the  heat  of  passion  makes  our 
souls  to  crack,  and  the  devil  creeps  in  at  the  crevices. 
Anger  is  a  passion  the  most  criminal  and  destructive 
of  all  the  passions;  the  only  one  that  not  only  bears 
the  appearance  of  insanity,  but  often  produces  the 
wildest  form  of  madness.    It  is  difficult,  indeed,  some- 


ANGER. 


28a 


times  to  mark  the  line  that  distinguishes  the  bursts  of 
rage  from  the  bursts  of  phrenzy;  so  similar  are  its 
movements,  and  too  often  equally  similar  are  its  actions. 
What  crime  has  not  been  committed  in  the  paroxysms 
of  anger?  Has  not  the  friend  murdered  his  friend? 
the  son  massacred  his  parent  ?  the  creature  blasphemed 
his  Creator?  When,  indeed,  the  nature  of  this  passion 
is  considered,  what  crime  may  it  not  commit?  Is  it 
not  the  storm  of  the  human  mind,  which  wrecks  every 
better  affection — wrecks  reason  and  conscience;  and, 
as  a  ship  driven  without  helm  or  compass  before  the 
rushing  gale,  is  not  the  mind  borne  away,  without 
guide  or  government,  by  the  tempest  of  unbounded 
rage  ? 

A  passionate  temper  renders  a  man  unfit  for  advice, 
deprives  him  of  his  reason,  robs  him  of  all  that  is  either 
great  or  noble  in  his  nature;  it  makes  him  unfit  for 
conversation,  destroys  friendship,  changes  justice  into 
cruelty,  and  turns  ail  order  into  confusion.  Says  Lord 
Bacon:  uAn  angry  man  who  suppresses  his  passions, 
thinks  worse  than  he  speaks;  and  an  angry  man  that 
will  chide,  speaks  worse  than  he  thinks."  A  wise  man 
hath  no  more  anger  than  is  necessary  to  show  that  he 
can  apprehend  the  first  wrong,  nor  any  more  revenge 
than  justly  to  prevent  a  second.  One  angry  word 
sometimes  raises  a  storm  that  time  itself  cannot  allay. 
There  is  many  a  man  whose  tongue  might  govern 
multitudes,  if  he  could  only  govern  his  tongue.  He  is 
the  man  of  power  who  controls  the  storms  and  tem- 
pests of  his  mind.  He  that  will  be  angry  for  anything, 
will  be  angry  for  nothing.    As  some  are  often  incensed 


284 


ANGER. 


without  a  cause,  so  they  are  apt  to  continue  their 
anger,  lest  it  should  appear  to  their  disgrace  to  have 
begun  without  occasion.  If  we  do  not  subdue  our 
anger  it  will  subdue  us.  It  is  the  second  word  that 
makes  the  quarrel.  That  anger  is  not  warrantable 
that  hath  seen  two  suns.  One  long  anger,  and  twenty 
short  ones,  have  no  very  great  difference.  Our  passions 
are  like  the  seas,  agitable  by  the  winds;  and  as  God 
hath  set  bounds  to  these,  so  should  we  to  those — so 
far  shali  thou  go,  and  no  farther. 

Angry  and  choleric  men  are  as  ungrateful  and  unso- 
ciable as  thunder  and  lightning,  being  in  themselves  all 
storm  and  tempests ;  but  quiet  and  easy  natures  are 
like  fair  weather,  welcome  to  all,  and  acceptable  to  all 
men;  they  gather  together  what  the  other  disperses, 
and  reconcile  all  whom  the  other  incenses;  as  they 
have  the  good  will  and  the  good  wishes  of  all  other 
men,  so  they  have  the  full  possession  of  themselves, 
have  all  their  own  thoughts  at  peace,  and  enjoy  quiet 
and  ease  in  their  own  fortunes,  how  strait  soever  it 
may  be. 

But  how  with  the  angry,  who  thinks  well  of  an  ill- 
natured,  churlish  man,  who  has  to  be  approached  in 
the  most  guarded  and  cautious  way  ?  Who  wishes 
him  for  a  neighbor,  or  a  partner  in  business.  He 
keeps  all  about  him  in  nearly  the  same  state  of  mind 
as  if  they  were  living  next  door  to  a  hornet's  nest  or  a 
rabbid  animal.  And  so  to  prosperity  in  business;  one 
gets  along  no  better  for  getting  angry.  What  if  busi- 
ness is  perplexing,  and  everything  goes  "by  contraries!" 
Will  a  fit  of  passion  make  the  wind  more  propitious. 


ANGER. 


285 


the  ground  more  productive,  the  market  more  favor- 
able? Will  a  bad  temper  draw  customers,  pay  notes, 
and  make  creditors  better  natured?  If  men,  animals, 
or  senseless  matter  cause  trouble,  will  getting  "mad" 
help  matters?  —  make  men  more  subservient,  brutes 
more  docile,  wood  and  stone  more  tractable  ?  Any 
angry  man  adds  nothing  to  the  welfare  of  society.  He 
may  do  some  good,  but  more  hurt.  Heated  passion 
makes  him  a  firebrand,  and  it  is  a  wonder  that  he  does 
not  kindle  flames  of  discord  on  every  hand. 

The  disadvantages  arising  from  anger,  under  all  cir- 
cumstances, should  prove  a  panacea  for  the  complaint. 
In  moments  of  cool  reflection,  the  man  who  indulges  it, 
views,  with  deep  regret,  the  desolations  produced  by  a 
summer  storm  of  passion.  Friendship,  domestic  hap- 
piness, self-respect,  the  esteem  of  others,  and  sometimes 
property,  are  swept  away  by  a  whirlwind;  perhaps  a 
tornado  of  anger.  I  have  more  than  once  seen  the 
furniture  of  a  house  in  a  mass  of  ruin,  the  work  of  an 
angry  moment.  I  have  seen  anger  make  wives  un- 
happy, alienate  husbands,  spoil  children,  derange  all 
harmony,  and  disturb  the  quiet  of  a  whole  neighbor- 
hood. Anger,  like  too  much  wine,  hides  us  from 
ourselves,  but  exposes  us  to  others. 

Some  people  seem  to  live  in  a  perpetual  storm;  calm 
weather  can  never  be  reckoned  upon  in  their  company. 
Suddenly,  when  you  least  expect  it,  without  any  ade- 
quate reason,  and  almost  without  any  reason  at  all,  the 
sky  becomes  black,  and  the  wind  rises,  and  there  is 
growling  thunder  and  pelting  rain.  You  can  hardly 
tell  where  the  tempest  came  from.    An  accident  for 


286 


ANGER. 


which  no  one  can  be  rightly  blamed,  a  misunderstand-  * 
ing  which  a  moment's  calm  thought  would  have  termi- 
nated, a  chance  word  which  meant  no  evil,  a  trifling 
difficulty  which  good  sense  might  have  removed  at 
once,  a  slight  disappointment  which  a  cheerful  heart 
would  have  borne  with  a  smile,  brings  on  earthquakes 
and  hurricanes.  What  men  want  of  reason  for  their 
opinions,  they  are  apt  to  supply  and  make  up  in  rage. 
The  most  irreconcilable  enmities  grow  from  the  most 
intimate  friendships.  To  be  angry  with  a  weak  man 
is  to  prove  that  you  are  not  very  strong  yourself.  It  is 
much  better  to  reprove  than  to  be  angry  secretly. 
Anger,  says  Pythagoras,  begins  with  folly  and  ends 
with  repentance. 

Be  not  angry  that  you  cannot  make  others  as  you 
wish  them  to  be,  since  you  cannot  make  yourself  what 
you  wish  to  be. 

He  that  is  angry  with  the  just  reprover  kindles  the 
fire  of  the  just  avenger.  Bad  money  cannot  circulate 
through  the  veins  and  arteries  of  trade.  It  is  a  great 
pity  that  bad  blood  can  circulate  through  the  veins  and 
arteries  of  the  human  frame.  It  seems  a  pity  that  an 
angry  man,  like  the  bees  that  leave  their  stings  in  the 
wounds  they  make,  could  inflict  only  a  single  injury. 
And,  to  a  certain  extent,  it  is  so,  for  anger  has  been 
compared  to  a  ruin,  which,  in  falling  upon  its  victims, 
breaks  itself  to  pieces.  Since,  then,  anger  is  useless, 
disgraceful,  without  the  least  apology,  and  found  "only 
in  the  bosom  of  fools,"  why  should  it  be  indulged  at  all? 


OBSTINACY. 


287 


An  obstinate  man  does  not  hold  opinions,  but  they 
hold  him;  for  when  he  is  once  possessed  of  an  error,  it 
is  like  a  devil,  only  cast  out  with  great  difficulty. 
Whatsoever  he  lays  hold  on,  like  a  drowning  man,  he 
never  looses,  though  it  but  help  to  sink  him  the  sooner. 
Narrowness  of  mind  is  the  cause  of  obstinacy.  We 
do  not  easily  believe  what  is  beyond  our  sight.  There 
are  few,  very  few,  that  will  own  themselves  in  a  mis- 
take. Obstinacy  is  a  barrier  to  all  improvement. 
Whoever  perversely  resolves  to  adhere  to  plans  or 
opinions,  be  they  right  or  be  they  wrong,  because  such 
plans  and  opinions  have  been  already  adopted  by  them, 
raises  an  impenetrable  bar  to  conviction  and  informa- 
tion. To  be  open  to  conviction,  speaks  a  wise  mind,  an 
amiable  character.  Human  nature  is  so  frail  and  so 
ignorant,  so  liable  to  misconception,  that  none  but  the 
most  incorrigibly  vain  can  pertinaciously  determine  to 
abide  by  self-suggested  sentiments,  unsanctioned  by  the 
experience  or  the  judgment  of  others,  as  only  the  most 
incurably  foolish  can  be  satisfied  with  the  extent  of 
their  knowledge.  The  wiser  we  are,  the  more  we  are 
aware  of  our  ignorance.  Whoever  resolves  not  to  alter 
his  measures,  shuts  himself  out  from  all  possibility  of 
improvement,  and  must  die,  as  he  lives,  ignorant,  or  at 
best  but  imperfectly  informed. 

In  morals,  perhaps,  obstinacy  may  be  more  plausibly 
excused,  and,  under  the  misnomer  of  firmness,  be  prac- 
ticed as  a  virtue.    But  the  line  between  obstinacy  and 


288 


OBSTINACY. 


firmness  is  strong  and  decisive.  The  smallest  share  of 
common  sense  will  suffice  to  detect  it,  and  there  is  little 
doubt  that  few  people  pass  this  boundary  without  being 
conscious  of  the  fault. 

It  will  probably  be  found  that  those  qualities  which 
come  under  the  head  of  foibles,  rather  than  of  vices, 
render  people  most  intolerable  as  companions  and  coad- 
jutors. For  example,  it  may  be  observed  that  those 
persons  have  a  more  worn,  jaded,  and  dispirited  look 
than  any  others,  who  have  to  live  with  people  who 
make  difficulties  on  every  occasion,  great  or  small.  It 
is  astonishing  to  see  how.  this  practice  of  making  diffi- 
culties grows  into  a  confirmed  habit  of  mind,  and  what 
disheartenment  it  occasions.  The  savor  of  life  is  taken 
out  of  it  when  you  know  that  nothing  you  propose  or 
do,  or  suggest,  hope  for,  or  endeavor,  will  meet  with 
any  response  but  an  enumeration  of  the  difficulties  that 
lie  in  the  path  you  wish  to  travel.  The  difficulty- 
monger  is  to  be  met  with  not  only  in  domestic  and 
social  life,  but  also  in  business.  It  not  unfrequently 
occurs  in  business  relations  that  the  chief  will  never  by 
any  chance,  without  many  objections  and  much  bring- 
ing forward  of  possible  difficulties,  approve  of  anything 
that  is  brought  to  him  by  his  subordinates.  They  at 
last  cease  to  take  pains,  knowing  that  no  amount  of 
pains  will  prevent  their  work  being  dealt  with  in  a 
spirit  of  ingenious  objectiveness.  At  last  they  say  to 
themselves,  "  The  better  the  thing  we  present,  the 
more  opportunity  he  will  have  for  developing  his  un- 
pleasant task  of  objectiveness,  and  his  imaginative 
power  of  inventing  difficulties." 


HYPOCRISY. 


289 


Of  all  disagreeable  people,  the  obstinate  are  the 
worst.  Society  is  often  dragged  down  to  low  standards 
by  two  or  three  who  propose,  in  every  case,  to  fight 
everything  and  every  idea  of  which  they  are  not  the 
instigators.  When  a  new  idea  is  brought  to  such  per- 
sons, instead  of  drawing  out  of  it  what  good  they  can, 
they  seek  to  get  the  bad,  ever  ready  to  heap  a  moun- 
tain of  difficulties  upon  it.  In  trying  to  suggest  an 
improvement  to  anything,  or  an  idea,  fairly  unmans 
them,  or  throws  dirt  in  their  eyes  so  they  can't  see 
what  they  otherwise  might  have  arrived  at. 

But  there  are  situations  in  which  the  proper  opinions 
and  mode  of  conduct  are  not  evident.  In  such  cases 
we  must  maturely  reflect  ere  we  decide;  we  must  seek 
for  the  opinions  of  those  wiser  and  better  acquainted 
with  the  subject  than  ourselves ;  we  must  candidly  hear 
all  that  can  be  said  on  both  sides;  then,  and  only  then, 
can  we  in  such  cases  hope  to  determine  wisely;  but  the 
decision,  once  so  deliberately  adopted,  we  must  firmly 
sustain,  and  never  yield  but  to  the  most  unbiased 
conviction  of  our  former  error. 


There  is  no  foolishness  in  the  world  so  great  as  to 
be  a  hypocrite.    He  is  hated  of  the  world  for  seeming 
to  be  a  Christian;  he  is  hated  by  God  for  not  being 
one.    He  hates  himself  and  he  is  even  despised  by 
19 


290 


HYPOCRISY. 


Satan  for  serving  him  and  not  acknowledging  it.  They 
are  really  the  best  followers  and  the  greatest  dupes 
that  he  has;  they  serve  him  better  than  any  other,  but 
receive  no  wages.  And  what  is  most  wonderful,  they 
submit  to  greater  mortifications  to  go  to  hell  than  the 
most  sincere  Christian  to  go  to  heaven.  They  desire 
more  to  seem  good  than  to  be  so,  while  the  Christian 
desires  more  to  be  so  than  to  seem  so.  They  study 
more  to  enter  into  religion  than  that  religion  should 
enter  into  them.  They  are  zealous  in  little  things  but 
cold  and  remiss  in  the  most  important.  They  are 
saints  by  pretension,  but  satans  in  intention.  They 
testify,  they  worship  only  to  answer  their  wicked 
purposes.  They  stand  as  angels  before  their  sins  so 
as  to  hide  them.  A  scorpion  thinks  when  its  head 
is  under  a  leaf  it  cannot  be  seen.  So  the  hypocrite. 
The  false  saints  think  when  they  have  hoisted  up  one 
or  two  good  works,  that  all  their  sins  therewith  are 
covered  and  hid. 

Let  us  ask  ourselves  seriously  and  honestly,  "What 
do  I  believe  after  all  ?  What  manner  of  man  am  I  after 
all?  What  sort  of  a  show  should  I  make  after  all,  if 
the  people  around  me  knew  my  heart  and  all  my 
secret  thoughts  ?  What ,  sort  of  show,  then,  do  I 
already  make,  in  the  sight  of  Almighty  God,  who 
sees  every  man  exactly  as  he  is?"  Oh,  that  poor 
soul,  though  it  may  fool  people  and  itself,  it  will  not 
fool  God! 

Hypocrisy  shows  love,  but  is  hatred;  shows  friend- 
ship, but  is  an  enemy;  shows  peace,  but  is  at  war;  it 
shows  virtue,  but  is  wretched  and  wicked.    It  flatters; 


HYPOCRISY. 


291 


it  curses;  it  praises;  it  slanders.  It  always  has  two 
sides  of  a  question;  it  possesses  what  it  does  not  pre- 
tend, and  pretends  what  it  does  not  possess. 

Men  are  afraid  of  slight  outward  acts  which  will 
injure  them  in  the  eyes  of  others,  while  they  are  heed- 
less of  the  damnation  which  throbs  in  their  souls  in 
hatreds,  and  jealousies,  and  revenges. 

They  are  more  troubled  by  the  outburst  of  a  sinful 
disposition,  than  by  the  disposition  itself.  It  is  not 
the  evil,  but  its  reflex  effect  upon  themselves,  that  they 
dread.  It  is  the  love  of  approbation,  and  not  the  con- 
science, that  enacts  the  part  of  a  moral  sense,  in  this 
case.  If  a  man  covets,  he  steals.  If  a  man  has  mur- 
derous hate,  he  murders.  If  a  man  broods  dishonest 
thoughts,  he  is  a  knave.  If  a  man  harbors  sharp  and 
bitter  jealousies,  envies,  hatreds,  though  he  never 
express  them  by  his  tongue,  or  shape  them  by  his 
hand,  they  are  there.  Society,  to  be  sure,  is  less 
injured  by  their  latent  existence  than  it  would  be  by 
their  overt  forms.  But  the  man  himself  is  as  much 
injured  by  the  cherished  thoughts  of  evil,  in  his  own 
soul,  as  by  the  open  commission  of  it,  and  sometimes 
even  more.  For  evil  brought  out  ceases  to  disguise 
itself,  and  seems  as  hideous  as  it  is.  But  evil  that 
lurks  and  glances  through  the  soul  avoids  analysis, 
and  evades  detection. 

There  are  many  good-seeming  men  who,  if  all  their 
day's  thoughts  and  feelings  were  to  be  suddenly  devel- 
oped into  acts,  visible  to  the  eye,  would  run  from 
themselves,  as  men  in  earthquakes  run  from  the  fiery 


292 


HYPOClllSY. 


gapings  of  the  ground,  and  sulphurous  cracks  that 
open  the  way  to  the  uncooled  center  of  perdition. 

Pr^tensior* !  profession !  how  haughtily  they  stride 
into  ihe  kingdom  of  the  lowly  Redeemer,  and  usurp 
the  h;ghest  seats,  and  put  on  the  robes  of  sanctity,  and 
sirg  the  hymns  of  praise,  and  utter  aloud,  to  be  heard 
of  men,  t  ac  prayers  which  the  spirit  ought  to  breathe 
in  silent  and  childlike  confidence  into  the  ear  of  the 
listening  and  loving  Father !  How  they  build  high 
domes  of  worship  with  velvety  seats  and  golden  altars 
and  censers  and  costly  plate  and  baptismal  fonts  by  the 
side  of  squalid  want  and  ragged  poverty!  How  their 
mocking  prayers  mingle  with  the  cry  of  beggary,  the 
curse  of  blasphemy,  the  wail  of  pain  and  the  lewd 
laugh  of  sensuality !  How  mournfully  their  organ 
chants  of  praise,  bought  with  sordid  gold,  go  up  from 
the  seats  of  worldliness  and  pride,  and  how  reproach- 
fully the  tall  steeples  of  cathedrals  and  synagogues  and 
churches  look  down  on  the  oppression  and  pride  and 
selfishness  which  assemble  below  them,  and  the  slavery, 
poverty,  and  intemperance  which  pass  and  repass  their 
marble  foundations!  Oh!  shade  of  religion,  where  art 
thou?  Spirit  of  the  lowly  bleeder  on  Calvary,  hast 
thou  left  this  world  in  despair  ?  Comforter  of  the 
mourning,  dweller  with  the  sinful,  how  long  shall  these 
things  be?  Religion  is  made  a  show-bubble.  Pride  is 
her  handmaid,  and  selfishness  her  leader.  What  a 
tawdry  show  they  make!  And  who  believes  the  sub- 
stance is  equal  to  the  show,  the  root  as  deep  as  the  tree 
is  high,  the  foundation  as  firm  as  the  structure  is 


HYPOCRISY. 


293 


imposing?  Nowhere  does  show  more  wickedly  usurp 
the  dominion  of  substance  than  in  the  realm  of  religion. 
In  the  world  we  might  expect  to  see  hypocrisy.  But 
the  true  religion  is  above  the  world.  "My  kingdom  is 
not  of  this  world,"  said  its  founder.  It  has  a  world 
of  its  own.  It  is  built  on  substance.  But  men  have 
sought  to  make  it  a  world  of  show,  to  carry  the  decep- 
tion and  Pharisaism  of  this  world  up  into  the  Redeemer's 
world,  and  palm  them  off  there  for  the  golden  reality 
that  shall  be  admitted  to  heaven.  But  poorly  will 
hypocrisy  pass  at  the  bar  of  God.  No  coin  but  the  true 
one  passes  there.  No  gilding  will  hide  the  hollowness  of 
a  false  soul.  No  tawdry  displays  will  avail  with  that 
eye  whose  glance,  like  a  sword,  pierces  to  the  heart. 
All  is  open  there  :  all  hypocrisy,  vanity;  worse  than 
vanity  ;  it  is  sin.  It  is  a  gilded  lie,  a  varnished  cheat. 
It  is  proof  of  the  hollowness  within,  the  sign  of  corrup- 
tion. Yea,  more ;  it  is  itself  corrupting ;  a  painted 
temptation.  It  lures  men  away  from  the  truth;  wastes 
their  energies  on  a  shadow ;  wins  their  affections  to 
fading  follies,  and  gives  them  a  disrelish  for  the  real, 
the  substantial,  and  enduring.  Who  can  expect  that 
God  will  not  hide  in  every  hollow  show  intended  to 
deceive,  a  sharp  two-edged  sword  that  shall  cut  with 
disappointment,  and  pierce  with  inward,  wasting  want? 


294 


FRETTING  AND  GRUMBLING. 


Many  very  excellent  persons,  whose  lives  are  honor- 
able and  whose  characters  are  noble,  pass  numberless 
hours  of  sadness  and  weariness  of  heart.  The  fault  is 
not  with  their  circumstances,  nor  yet  with  their  general 
characters,  but  with  themselves  that  they  are  miserable. 
They  have  failed  to  adopt  the  true  philosophy  of  life. 
They  wait  for  happiness  to  come  instead  of  going  to 
work  and  making  it ;  and  while  they  wait  they  torment 
themselves  with  borrowed  troubles,  with  fears,  fore- 
bodings, morbid  fancies  and  moody  spirits,  till  they  are 
all  unfitted  for  happiness  under  any  circumstances. 
Sometimes  they  cherish  unchaste  ambition,  covet  some 
fancied  or  real  good  which  they  do  not  deserve  and 
could  not  enjoy  if  it  were  theirs,  wealth  they  have  not 
earned,  honors  they  have  not  won,  attentions  they  have 
not  merited,  love  which  their  selfishness  only  craves. 
Sometimes  they  undervalue  the  good  they  do  possess; 
throw  away  the  pearls  in  hand  for  some  beyond  thrir 
reach,  and  often  less  valuable;  trample  the  flowe^. 
about  them  under  their  feet;  long  for  some  never  seen, 
but  only  heard  or  read  of;  and  forget  present  duties 
and  joys  in  future  and  far-off  visions.  Sometimes  they 
shade  the  present  with  every  cloud  of  the  past,  and 
although  surrounded  by  a  thousand  inviting  duties  and 
pleasures,  revel  in  sad  memories  with  a  kind  of  morbid 
relish  for  the  stimulus  of  their  miseries.  Sometimes, 
forgetting  the  past  and  present,  they  live  in  the  future, 
not  in  its  probable  realities,  but  in  its  most  improbable 


FRETTING  AND  GRUMBLING. 


295 


visions  and  unreal  creations,  now  of  good  and  then  of 
evil,  wholly  unfitting  their  minds  for  real  life  and 
enjoyments.  These  morbid  and  improper  states  of 
mind  are  too  prevalent  among  some  persons.  They 
excite  that  nervous  irritability  which  is  so  productive 
of  pining  regrets  and  fretful  complaints.  They  make 
that  large  class  of  fretters  who  enjoy  no  peace  them- 
selves, nor  permit  others  to  enjoy  it.  In  the  domestic 
circle  they  fret  their  life  away.  Everything  goes  wrong 
with  them  because  they  make  it  so.  The  smallest 
annoyances  chafe  them  as  though  they  were  unbearable 
aggravations.  Their  business  and  duties  trouble  them 
as  though  such  things  were  not  good.  Pleasure  they 
never  seem  to  know  because  they  never  get  ready  to 
enjoy  it.  Even  the  common  movements  of  Providence 
are  all  wrong  with  them.  The  weather  is  never  as  it 
should  be.  The  seasons  roll  on  badly.  The  sun  is 
never  properly  tempered.  The  climate  is  always 
charged  with  a  multitude  of  vices.  The  winds  are 
everlastingly  perverse,  either  too  high  or  too  low,  blow- 
ing dust  in  everybody's  face,  or  not  fanning  them  as 
they  should.  The  earth  is  ever  out  of  humor,  too  dry 
or  too  wet,  too  muddy  or  dusty.  And  the  people  are 
just  about  like  it.  Something  is  wrong  all  the  time1 
and  the  wrong  is  always  just  about  them.  Their  home 
is  the  worst  of  anybody's;  their  street  and  their  neigh* 
borhood  is  the  most  unpleasant  to  be  found ;  nobody 
else  has  so  bad  servants  and  so  many  annoyances  as 
they.  Their  lot  is  harder  than  falls  to  common  mortals; 
they  have  to  work  harder  and  always  did;  have  less 
and  always  expect  to.    They  have  seen  more  trouble 


296 


FRETTING  AND  GRUMBLING. 


than  other  folks  know  anything  about.  They  are  never 
so  well  as  their  neighbors,  and  they  always  charge  all 
their  unhappiness  upon  those  nearest  connected  with 
them,  never  dreaming  that  they  are  themselves  the 
authors  of  it  all.  Such  people  are  to  be  pitied.  Of  all 
the  people  in  the  world  they  deserve  most  our  compas- 
sion. They  are  good  people  in  many  respects,  very 
benevolent,  very  conscientious,  very  pious,  but,  withal, 
very  annoying  to  themselves  and  others.  As  a  general 
rule,  their  goodness  makes  them  more  difficult  to  cure 
of  their  evil.  They  cannot  be  led  to  see  that  they  are 
at  fault.  Knowing  their  virtues  they  cannot  see  their 
faults.  They  do  not,  perhaps,  overestimate  their  virtues; 
but  they  fail  to  see  what  they  lack,  and  this  they  always 
charge  upon  others,  often  upon  those  who  love  them 
best.  They  see  others  actions  through  the  shadow  of 
their  own  fretful  and  gloomy  spirits.  Hence  it  is  that 
the}/  see  their  own  faults  as  existing  in  those  about 
them,  as  a  defect  in  the  eye  produces  the  appearance 
of  a  corresponding  defect  in  every  object  toward  which 
it  is  turned.  This  defect  in  character  is  more  generally 
the  result  of  vicious  or  improper  habits  of  mind,  than 
uny  constitutional  idiosyncrasy.  It  is  the  result  of  the 
indulgence  of  gloomy  thoughts,  morbid  fancies,  inor- 
dinate ambition,  habitual  melancholy a  complaining, 
fault  finding  disposition. 

A  fretting  man  or  woman  is  one  of  the  most  unlov- 
able objects  in  the  world.  A  wasp  is  a  comfortable 
house  -  mate  in  comparison ;  it  only  stings  when  dis- 
turbed. But  an  habitual  fretter  buzzes  if  he  don't 
sting,  with  or  without  provocation.    "It  is  better  to 


FRETTING  AND  GRUMBLING. 


297 


dwell  in  the  corner  of  a  house-top  than  with  a  brawling 
woman  and  in  a  wide  house."  Children  and  servants 
cease  to  respect  the  authority  or  obey  the  commands 
of  a  complaining,  worrisome,  exacting  parent  or 
master.  They  know  that  "barking  dogs  don't  bite," 
and  fretters  do  n't  strike,  and  the}r  conduct  themselves 
accordingly. 

If  we  are  faultless,  we  should  not  be  so  much 
annoyed  by  the  defects  of  those  with  whom  we  associ- 
ate. If  we  were  to  acknowledge  honest ly  that  we 
have  not  virtue  enough  to  bear  patiently  with  our 
neighbors'  weaknesses,  we  should  show  our  own  imper- 
fection, and  this  alarms  our  vanity. 

He  who  frets  is  never  the  one  who  mends,  heals, 
or  repairs  evils;  more,  he  discourages,  enfeebles,  and 
too  often  disables  those  around  him,  who,  but  for  the 
gloom  and  depression  of  his  company,  would  do  good 
work  and  keep  up  brave  cheer.  And  when  the  fretter 
is  one  who  is  beloved,  whose  nearness  of  relation  to  us 
makes  his  fretting,  even  at  the  weather,  seem  almost 
like  a  personal  reproach  to  us,  then  the  misery  of  it 
becomes  indeed  insupportable.  Most  men  call  fretting 
a  minor  fault,  a  foible,  and  not  a  vice.  There  is  no 
vice  except  drunkenness  which  can  so  utterly  destroy 
the  peace,  the  happiness  of  a  home.  We  never  knew 
a  scolding  person  that  was  able  to  govern  a  family. 
What  makes  people  scold  ?  Because  they  cannot 
govern  themselves.  How  can  they  govern  others  ? 
Those  who  govern  well  are  generally  calm.  They  are 
prompt  and  resolute,  but  steady. 

It  is  not  work  that  kills  men,  it  is  worry.    Work  is 


298 


FRETTING  AND  GRUMBLING. 


healthy;  you  can  hardly  put  more  on  a  man  than  he 
can  bear.  Worry  is  rust  upon  the  blade.  It  is  not  the 
revolution  that  destroys  the  machinery,  but  the  friction. 
Fear  secretes  acids,  but  love  and  trust  are  sweet  juices* 
The  man  or  woman  who  goes  through  the  world 
grumbling  and  fretting,  is  not  only  violating  the  laws 
of  God,  but  is  a  sinner  against  the  peace  and  harmony 
of  society,  and  is,  and  of  right  ought  to  be,  shunned 
accordingly.  They  are  always  in  hot  water,  forever  in 
trouble.  They  throw  the  blame  of  their  own  misdeeds 
and  want  of  judgment  upon  others,  and  if  one  might 
believe  them,  society  would  be  found  in  a  shocking 
state.  They  rail  at  everything,  lofty  or  lowly,  and 
when  they  have  no  grumbling  to  do  they  begin  to 
deprecate.  They  endeavor  to  make  good  actions  seem 
contemptible  in  other  men's  eyes,  and  try  to  belittle 
every  noble  and  praiseworthy  enterprise  by  casting 
suspicion  upon  the  motives  of  those  connected  with  it. 
Such  individuals,  whether  men  or  women,  are  an  incu- 
bus on  any  society,  and  the  best  way  to  paralyze  their 
efforts  to  create  discord,  is  to  ignore  them  altogether. 
Let  grumblers  form  a  select  circle  by  themselves.  Let 
them  herd  together;  give  them  the  cold  shoulder  when 
they  appear,  and  make  them  uncomfortable  during 
their  sojourn,  and  if  they  cannot  be  cured  they  may  be 
more  easily  endured,  and  perhaps  discover  the  error  of 
their  ways  and  reform. 

An  Englishman  dearly  likes,  says  Punch,  to  grumble, 
no  matter  whether  he  be  right  or  wrong,  crying  or 
laughing,  working  or  playing,  gaining  a  victory  or 
smarting  under  a  national  humiliation,  paying  or  being 


FAULT  FINDING. 


29£ 


paid — still  he  must  grumble,  and,  in  fact,  he  is  never 
so  happy  as  when  he  is  grumbling ;  and,  supposing 
everything  was  to  our  satisfaction,  (though  it  says  a 
great  deal  for  our  power  of  assumption  to  assume  any 
such  absurd  impossibility,)  still  he  would  grumble  at 
the  fact  of  there  being  nothing  for  him  to  grumble 
about. 

There  are  two  things  about  which  we  should  never 
grumble:  the  first  is  that  which  we  cannot  help,  and 
the  other  that  which  we  can  help 


A  man  would  get  a  very  false  notion  of  his  standing 
among  his  friends  and  acquaintances  if  it  were  pos- 
sible— as  many  would  like  to  have  it  possible — to 
know  what  is  said  of  him  behind  his  back.  One  day 
he  would  go  about  in  a  glow  of  self-esteem,  and  the 
next  he  would  be  bowed  under  a  miserable  sense  of 
misapprehension  and  disgust.  It  would  be  impossible 
for  him  to  put  this  and  that  together  and  "  strike 
an  average."  The  fact  is,  there  is  a  strange  human 
tendency  to  take  the  present  friend  into  present  confi- 
dence. With  strong  natures  this  tendency  proves 
often  a  stumbling-block;  with  weak  natures  it  amounts 
to  fickleness.  It  is  a  proof,  no  doubt,  of  the  universal 
brotherhood ;  but  one  has  to  watch,  lest,  in  an  unguarded 


300 


FAULT  FINDING. 


moment,  it  lead  him  into  ever  so  slight  disloyalty  to  the 
absent. 

Never  employ  yourself  to  discover  the  faults  of 
others — look  to  your  own.  You  had  better  find  out 
one  of  your  own  faults  than  ten  of  }'our  neighbor's. 
When  a  thing  does  not  suit  you,  think  of  some  pleas- 
ant quality  in  it.  There  is  nothing  so  bad  as  it  might 
be.  Whenever  you  catch  yourself  in  a  fault-finding 
remark,  say  some  approving  one  in  the  same  breath, 
and  you  will  soon  be  cured.  Since  the  best  of  us  have 
too  many  infirmities  to  answer  for,  says  Dean  Swift, 
we  ought  not  to  be  too  severe  upon  those  of  others; 
and,  therefore,  if  our  brother  is  in  trouble,  we  ought 
to  help  him,  without  inquiring  over  seriously  what 
produced  it. 

Those  who  have  the  fewest  resources  in  themselves 
naturally  seek  the  food  of  their  self-love  elsewhere. 
The  most  ignorant  people  find  most  to  laugh  at  in 
strangers;  scandal  and  satire  prevail  most  in  small 
places;  and  the  propensity  to  ridicule  the  slightest  or 
most  palpable  deviation  from  what  we  happen  to 
approve,  ceases  with  the  progress  of  common  sense 
and  decency.  True  worth  does  not  exult  in  the  faults 
and  deficiency  of  others;  as  true  refinement  turns 
away  from  grossness  and  deformity,  instead  of  being 
tempted  to  indulge  in  an  unmanly  triumph  over  it. 
Raphael  would  not  faint  away  at  the  daubing  of  a 
sign-post,  nor  Homer  hold  his  head  higher  for  being 
in  the  company  of  a  "great  bard."  Real  power,  real 
excellence  does  not  seek  for  a  foil  in  imperfection;  nor 
fear  contamination  from  coming  in  contact  with  that 


FAULT  FINDING. 


301 


which  is  coarse  and  homely.  It  reposes  on  itself,  and 
is  equally  free  from  envy  and  affectation.  There  are 
some  persons  who  seem  to  treasure  up  things  that  are 
disagreeable,  on  purpose. 

The  tongue  that  feeds  on  mischief,  the  babbling,  the 
tattling,  the  sly  whispering,  the  impertinent  meddling, 
all  these  tongues  are  trespassing  on  the  community 
constantly.  The  fiery  tongue  is  also  abroad,  and  being 
set  on  fire  of  hell,  scatters  firebrands  among  friends, 
sets  families,  neighborhoods,  churches,  and  social  circles 
in  a  flame;  and,  like  the  salamander,  is  wretched  when 
out  of  the  burning  element.  The  black  slandering 
tongue  is  constantly  preying  upon  the  rose  buds  of 
innocence  and  virtue,  the  foliage  of  merit,  worth, 
genius,  and  talent;  and  poisons,  with  its  filth  of  innuen- 
does and  scum  of  falsehood,  the  most  brilliant  flowersr 
the  most  useful  shrubs,  and  the  most  valuable  trees,  in 
the  garden  of  private  and  public  reputation.  Not 
content  with  its  own  base  exertions,  it  leagues  with 
the  envious,  jealous,  and  revengeful  tongues;  and, 
aided  by  this  trio,  sufficient  venom  is  combined  to 
make  a  second  Pandemonium;  and  malice  enough  to 
fill  it  with  demons.  They  can  swallow  perjury  like 
water,  digest  forgery  as  readily  as  Graham  bread, 
convert  white  into  black,  truth  into  falsehood,  good 
into  evil,  innocence  into  crime,  and  metamorphose 
every  thing  which  stands  in  the  current  of  their 
polluted  and  polluting  breath. 

I  can  understand  how  a  boy  that  never  had  been 
taught  better  might  carry  torpedoes  in  his  pocket, 
and  delight  to  throw  them  down  at  the  feet  of  passers 


302 


FAULT  FINDING. 


by  and  see  them  bound;  but  I  can  not  understand  how 
an  instructed  and  well-meaning  person  could  do  such 
a  thing.  And  yet  there  are  men  who  carry  torpedoes 
all  their  life,  and  take  pleasure  in  tossing  them  at 
people.  "Oh,"  they  say,  "I  have  something  now, 
and  when  I  meet  that  man  I  will  give  it  to  him." 
And  they  wait  for  the  right  company,  and  the  right 
circumstances,  and  then  they  out  with  the  most  dis- 
agreeable things.  And  if  they  are  remonstrated  with, 
they  say,  "It  is  true,"  as  if  that  was  a  justification  of 
their  conduct.  If  God  should  take  all  the  things  that 
are  true  of  }<ou,  and  make  a  scourge  of  them,  and 
whip  you  with  it,  you  would  be  the  most  miserable 
of  men.  But  he  does  not  use  all  the  truth  on  you. 
And  is  there  no  law  of  kindness?  Is  there  no  desire 
to  please  and  profit  men?  Have  you  a  right  to  take 
any  little  story  that  you  can  pick  up  about  a  man,  and 
use  it  in  such  a  way  as  to  injure  him,  or  give  him  pain? 
And  yet,  how  many  men  there  are  that  seem  to  enjoy 
nothing  so  much  as  inflicting  exquisite  suffering  upon 
a  man  in  this  way,  when  he  can  not  help  himself? 
Well,  you  know  just  how  the  devil  feels.  Whenever 
he  has  done  anything  wicked,  and  has  made  somebody 
very  unhappy,  and  laughs,  he  feels  just  as,  for  the  time 
being,  you  feel  when  you  have  done  a  cruel  thing,  and 
somebody  is  hurt,  and  it  does  you  good. 

By  the  rules  of  justice,  no  man  ought  to  be  ridiculed 
for  any  imperfection,  who  does  not  set  up  for  eminent 
sufficiency  in  that  wherein  he  is  defective.  If  thou 
would'st  bear  thy  neighbor's  faults,  cast  thy  eyes  upon 
thine  own. 


FAULT  FINDING. 


303 


It  is  easier  to  avoid  a  fault  than  to  acquire  a  perfec- 
tion. By  others1  faults  wise  men  correct  their  own. 
He  that  contemns  a  small  fault  commits  a  great  one. 
The  greatest  of  all  faults  is,  to  believe  we  have  none. 
Little  minds  ignore  their  own  weakness,  and  carp  at 
the  defects  of  the  great;  but  great  minds  are  sensible 
of  their  own  faults,  and  largely  compassionate  toward 
inferiors. 

Beecher  says:  "When  the  absent  are  spoken  of, 
some  will  speak  gold  of  them,  some  silver,  some  iron, 
some  lead,  and  some  always  speak  dirt;  for  they  have 
a  natural  attraction  toward  what  is  evil  and  think  it 
shows  penetration  in  them.  As  a  cat  watching  for 
mice  does  not  look  up  though  an  elephant  goes  by, 
so  they  are  so  busy  mousing  for  defects,  that  they  let 
great  excellences  pass  them  unnoticed.  I  will  not  say 
that  it  is  not  Christian  to  make  beads  of  others'  faults, 
and  tell  them  over  every  day;  I  say  it  is  infernal.  If 
you  want  to  know  how  the  devil  feels,  you  do  know 
if  you  are  such  a  one." 

There  are  no  such  disagreeable  people  in  the  world 
as  those  who  are  forever  seeking  their  own  improve- 
ment, and  disquieting  themselves  about  this  fault  and 
that ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  there  is  an  unconscious 
merit  which  wins  more  good  than  all  the  theoretically 
virtuous  in  the  wide  world. 

What  a  world  of  gossip  would  be  prevented,  if  it 
was  only  remembered,  that  a  person  who  tells  you  the 
faults  of  others  intends  to  tell  others  of  your  faults. 
Every  one  has  his  faults;  every  man  his  ruling  passion. 
The  eye  that  sees  all  things  sees  not  itself.    That  man 


oU4  ENVY. 

hath  but  an  ill  life  of  it,  who  feeds,  himself  with  the 
faults  and  frailties  of  other  people.  Were  not  curiosity 
the  purveyor,  detraction  would  soon  be  starved  into 
tameness. 

To  a  pure,  sensitive,  and  affectionate  mind,  every  act 
of  finding  fault,  or  dealing  in  condemnation,  is  an  act 
of  pain.  It  is  only  when  we  have  become  callous  to 
the  world,  and  strangers  to  the  sentiments  of  compas- 
sionate love,  that  we  are  able  to  play  with  unconcern 
the  parts  of  persecutors  and  slanderers,  and  that  we 
can  derive  any  pleasure  from  malignity  and  revenge. 
He  who  is  the  first  to  condemn,  will  be  often  the  last 
to  forgive. 


\ 


Envy's  memory  is  nothing  but  a  row  of  hooks  to 
hang  up  grudges  on.  Some  people's  sensibility  is  a 
mere  bundle  of  aversions,  and  you  hear  them  display 
and  parade  it,  not  in  recounting  the  things  they  are 
attached  to,  but  in  telling  you  how  many  things  and 
persons  "they  cannot  bear." 

Envy  is  not  merely  a  perverseness  of  temper,  but  it 
is  such  a  distemper  of  the  mind  as  disorders  all  the 
faculties  of  it.  It  began  with  Satan;  for  when  he  fell 
he  could  see  nothing  to  please  him  in  Paradise,  and 
envied  our  first  parents  when  in  innocence,  and  there- 
fore tempted  them  to  sin,  which  ruined  them,  and"  all 


ENVY. 


305 


the  human  race.  Mr.  Locke  tells  us  that  upon  asking 
a  blind  man  what  he  thought  scarlet  was,  he  answered 
he  believed  it  was  like  the  sound  of  a  trumpet.  He 
was  forced  to  form  his  conceptions  of  ideas  which  he 
had  not,  by  those  which  he  had.  In  the  same  manner, 
though  an  envious  man  cannot  but  see  perfections,  yet 
having  contracted  the  distemper  of  acquired  blindness, 
he  will  not  own  them,  but  is  always  degrading  or  mis- 
representing things  which  are  excellent.  Thus,  point 
out  a  pious  person,  and  ask  the  envious  man  what  he 
thinks  of  him,  he  will  say  he  is  a  hypocrite,  or  deceit- 
ful; praise  a  man  of  learning  or  of  great  abilities,  and 
he  will  say  he  is  a  pedant,  or  proud  of  his  attainments; 
mention  a  beautiful  woman,  and  he  will  either  slander 
her  chastity  or  charge  her  with  affectation;  show  him 
a  fine  poem  or  painting,  and  he  will  call  the  one  "stiff," 
and  the  other  a  "daubing."  In  this  way  he  depreciates 
or  deforms  every  pleasing  object.  With  respect  to 
other  vices,  it  is  frequently  seen  that  many  confess  and 
forsake  them ;  but  this  is  not  often  the  case  with  respect 
to  this  vice,  for  as  the  person  afflicted  with  this  evil 
knows  very  well  to  own  that  we  envy  a  man  is  to  allow 
him  to  be  a  superior,  his  pride  will  not  therefore  permit 
him  to  make  any  concession,  if  accused  of  indulging 
this  base  principle,  but  he  becomes  more  violent  against 
the  person  envied,  and  generally  remains  incurable. 

Like  Milton's  fiend  in  Paradise,  he  sees,  undelighted, 
all  delight.  The  brightness  of  prosperity  that  sur- 
rounds others,  pains  the  eyes  of  the  envious  man  more 
than  the  meridian  rays  of  the  sun.  It  starts  the  involun- 
tary tear,  and  casts  a  gloom  over  his  mind.  It  brings 
20 


306 


ENVY. 


into  action  jealousy,  revenge,  falsehood,  and  the  basest 
passions  of  the  fallen  nature  of  man.  It  goads  him 
onward  with  a  fearful  impetus,  like  a  locomotive  ;  and 
often  runs  his  car  off  the  track,  dashes  it  in  pieces,  and  he 
is  left,  bruised  and  bleeding.  Like  the  cuttle-fish,  he 
emits  his  black  venom  for  the  purpose  of  darkening  the 
clear  waters  that  surround  his  prosperous  neighbors; 
and,  like  that  phenomenon  of  the  sea,  the  inky  sub- 
stance is  confined  to  a  narrow  circumference,  and  only 
tends  to  hide  himself.  The  success  of  those  around 
him  throws  him  into  convulsions,  and,  like  a  man  with 
the  delirium  tremens,  he  imagines  all  who  approach 
him  demons,  seeking  to  devour  him.  Like  Haman,  he 
often  erects  his  own  gallows  in  his  zeal  to  hang  others. 
His  mind  is  like  the  troubled  sea,  casting  up  the  mire 
of  revenge.  "Dionysius,  the  tyrant,'1  says  Plutarch, 
"out  of  envy,  punished  Philoxenius,  the  musician, 
because  he  could  sing ;  and  Plato,  the  philosopher, 
because  he  could  dispute  better  than  himself." 
.  Envy  is  a  sentiment  that  desires  to  equal,  or  excel 
the  efforts  of  compeers;  not  so  much  by  increasing  our 
own  toil  and  ingenuity,  as  by  diminishing  the  merit 
due  to  the  efforts  of  others.  It  seeks  to  elevate  itself 
by  the  degradation  of  others;  it  detests  the  sounds  of 
another's  pra.^e,  and  deems  no  renown  acceptable  that 
must  be  shared.  Hence,  when  disappointments  occur, 
they  fall,  with  unrelieved  violence,  and  the  sense  of  dis- 
comfited rivalry  gives  poignancy  to  the  blow. 

How  is  envy  exemplified  ?  A  worm  defiling  the 
healthful  blossom — a  mildew,  blasting  the  promised 
harvest.    How  true,  yet  how  forbidding  an  image  of 


ENVY. 


307 


the  progress  of  envy !  And  would  any  rational  creature 
be  willingly  the  worm  that  defiles  the  pure  blossoms  of 
virtue,  the  mildew  that  blasts  the  promised  harvest  of 
human  talent,  or  of  human  happiness? 

And  what  produces  envy  ?  The  excellence  of  another. 
Humiliating  deduction!  Envy  is,  then,  only  the  expres- 
sion of  inferiority  —  the  avowal  of  deficiency  —  the 
homage  paid  to  excellence.  Let  pride,  for  once,  be 
virtue,  and  urge  the  extinction  of  this  baneful  passion, 
since  its  indulgence  can  only  produce  shame  and  regret. 
Envy  is,  unquestionably,  a  high  compliment,  but  a  most 
ungracious  one.  An  envious  man  repines  as  much  at 
the  manner  in  which  his  neighbors  live  as  if  he  main- 
tained them.  Some  people  as  much  envy  others  a  good 
name,  as  they  want  it  themselves,  and  that  is  the 
reason  of  it.  Envy  is  fixed  on  merit;  and,  like  a  sore 
eye,  is  offended  with  anything  that  is  bright.  Envy 
increases  in  exact  proportion  with  fame;  the  man  that 
makes  a  character  makes  enemies.  A  radiant  genius 
calls  forth  swarms  of  peevish,  biting,  stinging  insects, 
just  as  the  sunshine  awakens  the  world  of  flies.  Virtue 
is  not  secure  against  envy.  Evil  men  will  lessen  what 
they  won't  imitate.  If  a  man  is  good,  he  is  envied;  if 
evil,  himself  is  envious.  Envious  people  are  doubly 
miserable,  in  being  afflicted  with  others'  prosperity  and 
their  own  adversity. 

Envy  is  a  weed  that  grows  in  all  soils  and  climates, 
and  is  no  less  luxuriant  in  the  country  than  in  the  court ; 
is  not  confined  to  any  rank  of  men  or  extent  of  fortune, 
but  rages  in  the  breasts  of  all  degrees.  Alexander  was 
not  prouder  than  Diogenes;  and  it  may  be,  if  we  would 


308 


ENVY. 


endeavor  to  suprise  it  in  its  most  gaudy  dress  and 
attire,  and  in  the  exercise  of  its  full  empire  and  tyranny,, 
we  should  find  it  in  schoolmasters  and  scholars,  or  in 
some  country  lady,  or  the  knight  her  husband;  all 
which  ranks  of  people  more  despise  their  neighbors 
than  all  the  degrees  of  honor  in  which  courts  abound, 
and  it  rages  as  much  in  a  sordid  affected  dress  as  in  all 
the  silks  and  embroideries  which  the  excess  of  the  age 
and  the  folly  of  youth  delight  to  be  adorned  with. 
Since,  then,  it  keeps  all  sorts  of  company,  and  wriggles 
itself  into  the  liking  of  the  most  contrary  natures  and 
dispositions,  and  yet  carries  so  much  poison  and  venom 
with  it,  that  it  alienates  the  affections  from  heaven,  and 
raises  rebellion  against  God  himself,  it  is  worth  our 
utmost  care  co  watch  it  in  all  its  disguises  and 
approaches,  that  we  may  discover  it  in  its  first  entrance 
and  dislodge  it  before  it  procures  a  shelter  or  retiring 
place  to  lodge  and  conceal  itself. 

Envy,  like  a  cold  poison,  benumbs  and  stupefies :  and 
thus,  as  if  conscious  of  its  own  impotence,  it  folds  its 
arms  in  despair  and  sits  cursing  in  a  corner.  When  it 
conquers  it  is  commonly  in  the  dark,  by  treachery  and 
undermining,  by  calumny  and  detraction.  Envy  is  no 
less  foolish  than  detestable;  it  is  a  vice  which,  they  say, 
keeps  no  holiday,  but  is  always  in  the  wheel,  and  work- 
ing upon  its  own  disquiet.  Envy,  jealousy,  scorpions 
and  rattlesnakes  can  be  made  to  sting  themselves  to 
death.  He  whose  first  emotion  on  the  view  of  an 
excellent  production  is  to  undervalue  it,  will  never  have 
one  of  his  own  to  show. 

Reader,  if  envy  is  ranking  in  your  bosom,  declare 


SLANDER. 


309 


war  against  it  at  once;  a  war  of  extermination;  no 
truce,  no  treaty,  no  compromise.  Like  the  pirate  on 
the  high  seas,  it  is  an  outlaw,  an  enemy  to  all  mankind, 
and  should  be  hung  up  at  the  yard  arm  until  it  is  dead, 

DEAD,  DEAD. 


"  That  abominable  tittle-tattle, 
The  cud  eschew'd  by  human  cattle." 

— Byron. 

Slander  is  a  blighting  sirocco;  its  pestiferous 
breath  pollutes  with  each  respiration;  its  forked 
tongue  is  charged  with  the  same  poison;  it  searches 
all  corners  of  the  world  for  victims;  it  sacrifices  the 
high  and  low,  the  king  and  the  peasant,  the  rich  and 
poor,  the  matron  and  maid,  the  living  and  the  dead; 
but  delights  most  in  destroying  worth,  and  immolating 
innocence.  Lacon  has  justly  remarked,  "Calumny 
crosses  oceans,  scales  mountains,  and  traverses  deserts, 
with  greater  ease  than  the  Scythian  Abaris,  and,  like 
him,  rides  upon  a  poisoned  arrow."  As  the  Samiel 
wind  of  the  Arabian  desert,  not  only  produces  death, 
but  causes  the  most  rapid  decomposition  of  the  body; 
so  calumny  affects  fame,  honor,  integrity,  worth,  and 
-virtue.  The  base,  cloven-footed  calumniator,  like  the 
loathsome  worm,  leaves  his  path  marked  with  the  filth 
of  malice,  and  scum  of  falsehood,  and  pollutes  the 
fairest  flowers,  the  choicest  fruits,  the  most  delicate 
plants  in  a  green-house  of  character.  Living,  he  is  a 
traveling  pest,  and  worse,  dying  impenitent,  his  soul  is 


310 


SLANDER. 


too  deeply  stained  for  hell.  ^X)h,  reader,  never  slander 
the  name  of  another.  A  writer  once  said:  "So  deep 
does  the  slanderer  sink  in  the  murky  waters  of  degrada- 
tion and  infamy,  that  could  an  angel  apply  an  Archime- 
dian  moral  lever  to  him,  with  heaven  for  a  fulcrum,  he 
could  not,  in  a  thousand  years,  raise  him  to  the  grade 
of  a  convict  felon." 

Slander ; 

Whose  edge  is  sharper  than  the  sword  ;  whose  tongue 
Out- venoms  all  the  worms  of  Nile;  whose  breath 
Rides  on  the  posting  winds,  and  doth  belie 
All  corners  of  the  world :  Kings,  queens,  and  states,. 
Maids,  matrons,  nay,  the  secrets  of  the  grave 
This  viperous  slander  enters. 

It  is  a  melancholy  reflection  upon  human  nature,  to 
see  how  small  a  matter  will  put  the  ball  of  scandal  in 
motion.  A  mere  hint,  a  significant  look,  a  mysterious 
countenance;  directing  attention  to  a  particular  person; 
often  gives  an  alarming  impetus  to  this  ignis  fatuus* 
A  mere  interrogatory  is  converted  into  an  affirmative 
assertion — the  cry  of  mad  dog  is  raised — the  mass 
join  in  the  chase,  and  not  unfrequently,  a  mortal 
wound  is  inflicted  on  the  innocent  and  meritorious, 
perhaps  by  one  who  had  no  ill-will,  or  desire  to  do 
wrong  in  any  case. 

There  is  a  sad  propensity  in  our  fallen  nature,  to 
listen"  to  the  retailers  of  petty  scandal.  With  many, 
it  is  the  spice  of  conversation,  the  exhilarating  gas  of 
their  minds.  Without  any  intention  of  doing  essential 
injury  to  a  neighbor,  a  careless  remark,  relative  to 
some  minor  fault  of  his,  may  be  seized  by  a  babbler* 


SLANDER. 


311 


and,  as  it  passes  through  the  babbling  tribe,  each  one 
adds  to  its  bulk,  and  gives  its  color  a  darker  hue,  until 
it  assumes  the  magnitude  and  blackness  of  base  slan- 
der. Few  are  without  visible  faults — most  persons 
are  sometimes  inconsistent.  Upon  these  faults  and 
mistakes,  petty  scandal  delights  to  feast. 

Nor  are  those  safe  from  the  filth  and  scum  of  this 
poisonous1  tribe,  who  are  free  from  external  blemishes. 
Envy  and  jealousy  can  start  the  blood-hound  of  sus- 
picion; create  a  noise  that  will  attract  attention;  and 
many  may  be  led  to  suppose  there  is  game,  when  there 
is  nothing  but  thin  air.  An  unjust  and  unfavorable 
innuendo  is  started  against  a  person  of  unblemished 
character;  it  gathers  force  as  it  is  rolled  through 
babble  town — it  soon  assumes  the  dignity  of  a  prob- 
lem—  is  solved  by  the  rule  of  double  position,  and  the 
result  increased  by  geometrical  progression  and  permu- 
tation of  quantities;  and  before  truth  can  get  her  shoes 
on,  a  stain,  deep  and  damning,  has  been  stamped  on 
the  fair  fame  of  an  innocent  victim,  by  an  unknown 
hand.  To  trace  calumny  back  to  the  small  fountain 
of  petty  scandal,  is  often  impossible;  and  always  more 
difficult  than  to  find  the  source  of  the  Nile. 

Insects  and  reptiles  there  are  which  fulfill  the  ends  of 
their  existence  by  tormenting  us;  so  some  minds  and 
dispositions  accomplish  their  destiny  by  increasing  our 
misery,  and  making  us  more  discontented  and  unhappy. 
Cruel  and  false  is  he  who  builds  his  pleasure  upon  my 
pain,  or  his  glory  upon  my  shame. 

Shun  evil-speaking.  Deal  tenderly  with  the  absent; 
say  nothing  to  inflict  a  wound  on  their  reputation. 


312 


SLANDER. 


They  may  be  wrong  and  wicked,  yet  your  knowledge 
of  it  does  not  oblige  you  to  disclose  their  character, 
except  to  save  others  from  injury.  Then  do  it  in  a  way 
that  bespeaks  a  spirit  of  kindness  for  the  absent  offender 
Be  not  hasty  to  credit  evil  reports.  They  are  often  the 
result  of  misunderstanding,  or  of  evil  design,  or  they 
proceed  from  an  exaggerated  or  partial  disclosure  of 
facts.  Wait  and  learn  the  whole  story  before  you 
decide;  then  believe  just  what  evidence  compels  you  to 
and  no  more.  But  even  then,  take  heed  not  to  indulge 
the  least  unkindness,  else  you  dissipate  all  the  spirit  of 
prayer  for  them  and  unnerve  yourself  for  doing  them 
good.  We  are  nearer  the  truth  in  thinking  well  of 
persons  than  ill.  Human  nature  is  a  tree  bearing  good 
as  well  as  evil,  but  our  eyes  are  wide  open  to  the  latter 
and  half  closed  to  the  former.  Believe  but  half  the 
ill  and  credit  twice  the  good  said  of  your  neighbor. 

A  glance,  a  gesture,  or  an  intonation,  may  be  vital 
with  falsehood,  sinking  a  heavy  shaft  of  cruelty  deep 
into  the  injured  soul — though  truth,  in  its  all-disclosing 
effulgence^  will,  sooner  or  later,  disperse  the  mists  and 
doom  the  falsifier  to  deserved  aversion ;  still,  the 
exposure  of  the  guilty  does  not  recompense  the  injured 
any  more  than  the  bruising  of  the  serpent  heals  the 
wound  made  by  his  barbed  fang.  An  injurious  rumor — 
originating,  perhaps,  in  some  sportive  gossip  —  once 
attached  to  a  person's  name,  will  remain  beside  it  a 
blemish  and  doubt  for  ever.  Especially  is  this  true  of 
the  fair  sex,  many  of  whom  have,  from  this  cause, 
withered  and  melted  in  their  voath  like  snow  in 
the  spring,  shedding  burning  tears  of  sadness  over 


SLANDEli. 


313 


the  world's  unkindness  and  "man's  inhumanity  to 
man." 

Among  many  species  of  animals,  if  one  of  their 
number  is  wounded  and  falls,  he  is  at  once  torn  to 
pieces  by  his  fellows.  Traces  of  this  animal  cruelty 
are  seen  in  men  and  women  to-day.  Let  a  woman  fall 
from  virtue  and  nine-tenths  of  her  sisters  will  turn  and 
tear  her  to  pieces,  and  the  next  day  smile  on  the  man 
who  ruined  her!  The  cruelty  of  woman  to  woman  is 
perfectly  wolfish.  O,  shame !  Reverse  the  action. 
Loathing  for  the  unrepentant  wretch  and  tenderness  for 
the  wounded  sister.  Tenderness  and  pity  and  help  for 
both  alike  if  they  repent  and  reform.  But  never  trust 
him  who  has  been  a  betrayer  once.  No  kindness 
demands  this  risk.  The  smell  of  blood  is  too  strong* 
for  the  tamed  tiger. 

There  is  a  natural  inclination  in  almost  all  persons  to 
do  it  —  a  kind  of  inhuman  pleasure  in  pelting  others 
with  stones.  Our  right  hands  ache  to  throw  them. 
There  is  such  wicked  enjoyment  in  seeing  them  dodge 
and  flinch  and  run.  This  is  human  nature  in  the  rough. 
There  are  so  many  who  never  get  out  of  the  rough. 
There  are  multitudes  of  respectable  people  who  evince 
exquisite  pleasure  in  making  others  smart.  There  is  a 
good  deal  of  the  Indian — the  uncivilized  man,  in  us  all 
yet.  It  has  not  been  wholly  eliminated  or  educated  out 
of  us  by  the  boasted  enlightenment  and  civilization  of 
the  age.  A  great  deal  of  pharisaic  zeal  to  stone  others 
who  are  no  more  guilty  than  we  are  still  exists.  It  is 
often  by  the  crafty  cry  of  astop  thief"  to  divert  atten- 
tion from  ourselves.    A  thief  snatched  a  diamond  ring 


314 


SLANDER. 


from  a  jeweler's  tray  and  dodged  around  the  corner 
into  the  crowded  street.  The  clerk  ran  out  crying 
astop  thief!"  The  rascal  eluded  attention  by  taking 
up  the  cry  and  vociferating  as  if  of  one  ahead,  "stop 
thief!  stop  thief!" 

It  takes  a  bloodthirsty  wretch  to  be  a  prosecutor  and 
inquisitor.  The  vulture  lives  to  disembowel  his  victim 
and  wet  his  beak  in  blood.  Who  ever  heard  of  a  dove 
rending  the  breast  of  a  robin,  or  a  lamb  sucking  the 
blood  of  a  kid?  Hawks  and  tigers  delight  in  this.  No! 
nature  will  out.  If  Christianity  has  not  cut  off  the 
claws,  we  incline  to  scratch  somebody.  If  Christ  pos- 
sesses us  wholly,  and  we  have  been  transformed  by  His 
spirit,  there  will  be  no  disposition  to  stone  our  neighbor, 
even  if  at  fault.  It  is  not  in  the  genius  of  Christianity 
to  do  it.  It  is  a  cancer  in  the  soul  that  must  be  cut 
out,  or  burned  out,  or  purged  out  of  the  blood,  or  it 
will  kill  us. 

Alexander  had  an  ugly  scar  on  his  forehead,  received 
in  battle.  When  the  great  artist  painted  his  portrait, 
he  sketched  him  leaning  on  his  elbow,  with  his  finger 
covering  the  scar  on  his  forehead.  There  was  the  like* 
ness  with  the  scar  hidden.  So  let  us  study  to  paint 
each  other  with  the  finger  of  charity  upon  the  scar  of 
a  brother,  hiding  the  ugly  mark  and  revealing  only  the 
beautiful,  the  true  and  the  good. 


VANITY. 


315 


This  propensity  pervades  the  whole  human  family 
to  a  less  or  greater  degree,  as  the  atmosphere  does  the 
globe.  It  is  the  froth  and  effervescence  of  pride.  The 
latter  is  unyielding  haughtiness,  the  former,  as  soft, 
pliant,  and  light,  as  the  down  of  a  goose.  It  is  selfish- 
ness modified  and  puffed  up,  like  a  bladder  with  wind. 
It  is  all  action,  but  has  no  useful  strength.  It  feeds 
voraciously  and  abundantly  on  the  richest  food  that  can 
be  served  up;  and  can  live  on  less  and  meaner  dietr 
than  anything  of  which  we  can  have  a  conception*. 
The  rich,  poor,  learned,  ignorant,  beautiful,  ugly,  high, 
low,  strong,  and  weak — all  have  a  share  of  vanity. 
The  humblest  Christian  is  not  free  from  it,  and,  when^ 
he  is  most  humble,  the  devil  will  flatter  his  vanity  by 
telling  him  of  it. 

Vanity  is  ever  striving  to  hide  itself,  like  the  peacock, 
its  ugly  feet,  and  will  even  deny  its  own  name.  "/ 
speak  -without  vanity" — hush — you  deceitful  puff. 
You  make  men  and  women,  the  only  animals  that  can 
laugh,  the  very  ones  to  be  laughed  at.  Dr.  Johnson 
once  remarked,  "When  any  one  complains  of  the  want 
of  what  he  is  known  to  possess  in  an  eminent  degree, 
he  waits,  with  impatience,  to  be  contradicted;"  and. 
thus  vanity  converts  him  into  a  fool  and  a  liar,  only  to* 
render  him  ridiculous.  Vanity  engenders  affectation, 
mock  modesty,  and  a  train  of  such  like  et  ceteras;  all 
subtracting  from  the  real  dignity  of  man. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  feeds,  with  equal  voracity  ora 


-316  PRIDE. 

vulgarity,  coarseness,  and  fulsome  eccentricity;  every 
thing  by  which  the  person  can  attract  attention.  It 
often  takes  liberality  by  the  hand,  prompts  advice, 
administers  reproof,  and  sometimes  perches,  visibly  and 
gaily,  on  the  prayers  and  sermons  in  the  pulpit.  It  is 
an  every  where  and  ever  present  principle  of  human 
nature — a  wen  on  the  heart  of  man;  less  painful,  but 
quite  as  loathsome  as  a  cancer.  It  is,  of  all  others,  the 
most  baseless  propensity. 

We  have  nothing  of  which  we  should  be  vain,  but 
much  to  induce  humility.  If  we  have  any  good  quali- 
ties they  are  the  gift  of  God;  in  the  best  of  men  there 
are  bad  ones  enough,  if  they  can  see  themselves,  to 
•strangle  vanity.  Let  every  one  guard  against  this  all- 
pervading  principle,  and  teach  their  children  that  it  is 
the  shadow  of  a  shade. 

He  that  is  proud  eats  himself  up.  Pride  is  his  own 
glass,  his  own  trumpet,  his  own  chronicle;  and  what- 
ever praises  itself  but  in  the  deed,  devours  the  deed  in 
the  praise.  Pride  is  like  an  empty  bag,  and  who  can 
stand  such  a  thing  upright?  It  is  hollow  and  heart- 
less; and,  like  a  drum,  makes  the  more  noise  from  its 
very  emptiness.  What  is  there  in  us  to  induce  such  a 
sentiment?  Who  can  say,  with  truth,  "I  am  better 
than  my  neighbor?"    Some  shrewd  philosopher  has 


PRIDE 


said,  that  if  the  best  man's  faults  were  written  on  his 
forehead  they  would  make  him  pull  his  hat  over  his. 
eyes!  Ah,  there  is  so  much  of  good  in  those  who  are 
evil,  and  so  much  that  is  bad  in  the  best,  that  it  ill 
becomes  us  to  judge  our  neighbors  harshly,  or  set  our- 
selves up  for  saints  at  their  expense.  Let  those  who- 
feel  above  their  fellows,  view  the  heights  above  them- 
selves, and  realize  their  littleness ;  for  as  there  is  none 
so  vile  but  that  a  viler  hath  been  known,  so  there  is  no 
saint  but  a  holier  can  be  named. 

When  one  asked  the  philosopher  what  the  great  God 
was  doing?  he  replied,  "His  whole  employment  is  to 
lift  up  the  humble,  and  to  cast  down  the  proud."  And? 
indeed,  there  is  no  one  sin  which  the  Almighty  seems 
more  determined  to  punish  than  this.  The  examples 
of  God's  displeasure  against  it  are  most  strikingly 
exhibited  in  the  history  of  Pharaoh,  Hezekiah,  Hainan, 
Nebuchadnezzar,  and  Herod. 

Pride  is  generally  the  effect  of  ignorance;  for  pride 
and  folly  attend  each  other.  Ignorance  and  pride  keep 
constant  company.  Pride,  joined  with  many  virtuesr 
chokes  them  all.  Pride  is  the  bane  of  happiness.  Some 
people,  says  L 'Estrange,  are  all  quality.  You  would 
think  they  were  made  of  nothing  but  title  and  geneal- 
ogy The  stamp  of  dignity  defaces  in  them  the  very 
character  of  humanity,  and  transports  them  to  such  a 
degree  of  haughtiness  that  they  reckon  it  below  them- 
selves to  exercise  either  good  nature  or  good  manners. 
It  is  related  of  the  French  family  of  the  Duke  de  Levis, 
that  they  have  a  picture  in  their  pedigree  in  which 
Noah  is  represented  going  into  the  ark,  and  carrying  a 


318 


PRIDE. 


small  trunk,  on  which  is  written,  "Papers  belonging  to 
the  Levis  family."  Pride  Is  the  mist  that  vapors  round 
insignificance.  We  can  conceive  of  nothing  so  little 
or  ridiculous  as  pride.  It  is  a  mixture  of  insensibility 
and  ill-nature,  in  which  it  is  hard  to  say  which  has  the 
largest  share.  Pride  is  as  loud  a  beggar  as  want,  and 
a  great  deal  more  saucy.  Knavery  and  pride  are  often 
united;  the  Spartan  boy  was  dishonest  enough  to  steal 
a  fox,  but  proud  enough  to  let  the  beast  eat  out  his 
vitals  sooner  than  hazard  detection.  Pride  breakfasted 
with  Plenty,  dined  with  Poverty,  and  suppered  with 
Infamy.  Pride  had  rather  at  any  time  go  out  of  the 
way  than  come  behind. 

Pride  must  have  a  fall.  Solomon  said,  pride  goeth 
before  destruction.  Of  all  human  actions,  pride  the 
most  seldom  obtains  its  end;  for  while  it  aims  at  honor 
and  reputation,  it  reaps  contempt  and  derision.  Pride 
and  ill-nature  will  be  hated  in  spite  of  all  the  wealth 
and  greatness  in  the  world.  Civility  is  always  safe, 
but  pride  creates  enemies.  As  liberality  makes  friends 
of  enemies,  so  pride  makes  enemies  of  friends.  Says 
Dean  Swift,  "If  a  proud  man  makes  me  keep  my  dis- 
tance, the  comfort  is,  he  at  the  same  time  keeps  his." 
Proud  men  have  friends  neither  in  prosperity,  because 
they  know  nobody;  nor  in  adversity,  because  nobody 
knows  them.  There  is  an  honest  pride,  such  as  makes 
one  ashamed  to  do  an  evil  act;  such  a  degree  of  self- 
esteem  as  makes  one  above  doing  an  injury  to  any  one ; 
but  it  is  the  pride  which  sets  one  above  his  fellows  that 
we  deprecate ;  that  spirit  which  would  demand  homage 
to  itself  as  better  and  greater  than  others.    In  the 


PRIDE. 


319 


name  of  good  sense,  how  can  any  one  feel  thus,  when  it 
is  realized  that  the  entire  life  of  a  man  is  but  a  moment 
in  the  scale  of  eternity;  and  that  in  a  few  short  days, 
at  most,  we  must  all  go  from  here.  When  the  soul  is 
about  to  depart,  what  avails  it  whether  a  man  dies  upor 
a  throne  or  in  the  dust? 

Pride  is  a  virtue — let  not  the  moralist  be  scandal 
ized — pride  is  also  a  vice.  Pride,  like  ambition,  is 
sometimes  virtuous  and  sometimes  vicious,  according 
to  the  character  in  which  it  is  found,  and  the  object  to 
which  it  is  directed.  As  a  principle,  it  is  the  parent 
of  almost  every  virtue,  and  every  vice — every  thing 
that  pleases  and  displeases  in  mankind;  and  as  the 
effects  are  so  very  different;  nothing  is  more  easy  than 
to  discover,  even  to  ourselves,  whether  the  pride  that 
produces  them  is  virtuous  or  vicious:  the  first  object 
of  virtuous  pride  is  rectitude,  and  the  next  independ- 
ence. Pride  may  be  allowed  to  this  or  that  degree, 
else  a  man  cannot  keep  up  his  dignity.  In  gluttony 
there  must  be  eating,  in  drunkenness  there  must  be 
drinking;  'tis  not  the  eating,  nor  'tis  not  the  drinking 
that  must  be  blamed,  but  the  excess.    So  in  pride. 

Pride  and  poverty,  when  combined,  make  a  man's 
life  up-hill  work.  Pomposity  in  a  hovel.  A  gaudy 
parlor,  meagre  kitchen,  and  empty  cupboard!  Ragged 
aristocracy!  What  shifts  there  are  among  this  class 
to  hide  their  rags,  and  to  give  everything  a  golden 
tinge.  Among  them  you  see  a  rich  frosted  cake  and 
red  wine  in  the  parlor,  and  a  dry  crust,  dryer  codfish, 
and  bad  coffee  in  the  kitchen.  Broadcloth  hides  a 
ragged  shirt.    Polished  boots  hide  tattered  stockings, 


320 


PRIDE. 


Fortune's  toys,  she  kicks  them  about  as  she  likes. 
The  higher  they  look  the  lower  they  sink.  The  gaudy 
side  out,  rags  and  starvation  within.  Oh!  the  pangs 
of  pride!  What  misery  is  here  covered  up.  Smiles 
abroad,  tears  at  home.  An  eternal  war  with  want  on 
one  hand,  and  proud  ambition  on  the  other.  This 
trying  to  be  "soinebod}T,"  and  this  forgetting  that  it 
is  not  necessary  to  be  gold-washed,  and  to  have  a 
silver  spoon  in  one's  mouth,  in  order  to  reach  that 
envied  good  in  life's  journey  There  are  plenty  of 
"somebodies"  among  the  honest  poor,  and  plenty  of 
"nobodies"  among  the  dainty  rich.  Pride  and  poverty 
are  the  most  ill-assorted  companions  that  can  meet. 
They  live  in  a  state  of  continual  warfare,  and  the 
sacrifices  they  exact  from  each  other,  like  those 
claimed  by  enemies  to  establish  a  hollow  peace,  only 
serve  to  increase  their  discord. 

Proud  persons  in  general  think  of  nothing  but  them- 
selves, and  imagine  that  all  the  world  thinks  about 
them  too.  They  suppose  that  they  are  the  subject 
of  almost  every  conversation,  and  fancy  every  wheel 
which  moves  in  society  hath  some  relation  to  them. 
People  of  this  sort  are  very  desirous  of  knowing  what 
is  said  of  them,  and  as  they  have  no  conception  that 
any  but  great  things  are  said  of  them,  the}^  are 
extremely  solicitous  to  know  them,  and  often  put 
this  question:  "Who  do  men  say  that  I  am?" 

Pride  is  the  ape  of  charity.  In  show  not  much 
unlike,  but  somewhat  fuller  of  action;  in  seeking  the 
one,  take  heed  thou  light  not  upon  the  other.  They 
are  two  parallels  never  put  asunder.    Charity  feeds  the 


PRIDE. 


321 


poor,  so  does  pride;  charity  builds  a  hospital,  so  does 
pride.  In  this  they  differ:  charity  gives  her  glory  to 
God,  pride  takes  her  glory  from  man.  When  flowers 
are  full  of  heaven-descended  dews,  they  always  hang 
their  heads;  but  men  hold  theirs  the  higher  the  more 
they  receive,  getting  proud  as  they  get  full. 

Likeness  begets  love,  yet  proud  men  hate  each  other. 
Pride  makes  us  esteem  ourselves ;  vanity  makes  us 
desire  the  esteem  of  others.  It  is  just  to  say,  that  a 
man  is.  too  proud  to  be  vain.  The  pride  of  wealth  is 
contemptible ;  the  pride  of  learning  is  pitiable ;  the 
pride  of  dignity  is  ridiculous;  but  the  pride  of  bigotry 
is  insupportable.  To  be  proud  of  knowledge,  is  to  be 
blind  in  the  light;  to  be  proud  of  virtue,  is  to  poison 
yourself  with  the  antidote;  to  be  proud  of  authority  is 
to  make  your  rise  your  downfall.  The  sun  appears 
largest  when  about  to  set,  so  does  a  proud  man  swell 
most  magnificently  just  before  an  explosion. 

No  two  feelings  of  the  human  mind  are  more  opposite 
than  pride  and  humility.  Pride  is  founded  on  a  high 
opinion  of  ourselves;  humility  on  the  consciousness  of 
the  want  of  merit.  Pride  is  the  offspring  of  ignorance; 
humility  is  the  child  of  wisdom.  Pride  hardens  the 
heart;  humility  softens  the  temper  and  the  disposition. 
Pride  is  deaf  to  the  clamors  of  conscience;  humility 
listens  with  reverence  to  the  monitor  within;  and  finally) 
pride  rejects  the  counsels  of  reason,  the  voice  of  expe- 
rience, the  dictates  of  religion;  while  humility,  with  a 
docile  spirit,  thankfully  receives  instruction  from  all 
who  address  her  in  the  garb  of  truth.  "Of  all  trees, n 
says  Feltham,  "I  observe  God  hath  chosen  the  vine — - 
21 


322 


PRIDE. 


a  low  plant  that  creeps  upon  the  helpful  wall;  of  all 
oeasts,  the  soft  and  pliant  lamb;  of  all  fowls,  the  mild 
and  guileless  dove.  When  God  appeared  to  Moses,  it 
was  not  in  the  lofty  cedar,  nor  in  the  spreading  palm, 
but  a  bush,  an  humble,  abject  bush.  As  if  he  would, 
by  these  selections,  check  the  conceited  arrogance  of 
man."  Nothing  produces  love  like  humility;  nothing 
hate  like  pride.  It  was  pride  that  changed  angels  into 
devils;  it  is  humility  that  makes  men  as  angels. 

There  are  as  good  horses  drawing  in  carts  as  in 
coaches;  and  as  good  men  are  engaged  in  humble 
employments  as  in  the  highest.  The  best  way  tc 
humble  a  proud  man  is  to  take  no  notice  of  him.  Men 
are  sometimes  accused  of  pride,  merely  because  their 
accusers  would  be  proud  themselves  if  they  were  in 
their  places.  There  are  those  who  despise  pride  with  * 
a  greater  pride.  To  quell  the  pride,  even  of  the  great- 
est, we  should  reflect  how  much  we  owe  to  others,  and 
how  little  to  ourselves.  Other  vices  choose  to  be  in  the 
dark,  but  pride  loves  to  be  seen  in  the  light.  The 
common  charge  against  those  who  rise  above  their 
condition,  is  pride.  Proud  looks  make  foul  work  in 
fair  faces. 

When  a  man's  pride  is  thoroughly  subdued,  it  is  like 
the  sides  of  Mount  yEtna.  It  was  terrible  while  the 
eruption  lasted  and  the  lava  flowed;  but  when  that  is 
past,  and  the  lava  is  turned  into  soil,  it  grows  vineyards 
and  olive  trees  up  to  the  very  top. 


FOPS  AND  DANDIES.  323 


ff0fr5  ttttl  Smite* 

Though  great  thy  grandeur,  man,  may  be, 
No  pride  of  heart  is  meant  for  thee  ; 
Let  fools  exult,  presumption  boast, 
The  fops  and  dandies  dwell  in  hosts. 

The  rose  of  Florida,  the  most  beautiful  of  flowers, 
emits  no  fragrance;  the  bird  of  Paradise,  the  most 
beautiful  of  birds,  gives  no  songs;  the  cypress  of 
Greece,  the  finest  of  trees,  yields  no  fruit;  dandies, 
the  shiniest  of  men,  generally  have  no  sense;  and  ball- 
room belles,  the  loveliest  of  created  creatures,  are 
very  often  ditto.  Dr.  Holmes,  in  his  "Autocrat  of 
the  Breakfast  Table,"  says:  "Dandies  are  not  good 
for  much,  but  they  are  good  for  something.  They 
invent  or  keep  in  circulation  those  conversational 
blanks,  checks  or  counters,  which  intellectual  capital- 
ists may  sometimes  find  it  worth  their  while  to  borrow 
of  them.  They  are  useful,  too,  in  keeping  up  the 
standard  of  dress,  which,  but  for  them,  would  deteri- 
orate and  become,  what  some  old  folks  would  have  it, 
a  matter  of  convenience,  and  not  of  taste  and  art. 
Yes,  I  like  dandies  well  enough — on  one  condition, 
that  they  have  pluck.  I  find  that  lies  at  the  bottom 
of  all  true  dandyism." 

A  man,  following  the  occupation  of  wood  cutting, 
wrought  with  exemplary  zeal  the  six  working  days, 
hoarding  every  cent  not  required  to  furnish  him  with 
the  most  frugal  fare.    As  his  "pile"  increased,  he 


324 


FOPS  AND  LANDIE8. 


invested  it  in  gold  ornaments — watch  chains  of  massive 
links,  shirt  and  sleeve  buttons,  shoe  buckles,  then  but* 
tons  for  vest  and  coat,  a  hat  band  of  the  precious 
metals,  a  heavy  gold-headed  cane  —  and,  in  short, 
wherever  an  ounce  of  it  could  be  bestowed  upon  his 
person,  in  or  out  of  taste,  it  was  done.  The  glory  of 
his  life,  his  sole  ambition,  was  to  don  his  curious  attire 
(which  was  deposited  for  safe  keeping  during  the  week 
in  one  of  the  banks)  on  Sunday  morning,  and  then 
spend  the  day,  the  "observed  of  all  observers,"  loung- 
ing about  the  office  or  bar-room  of  the  St.  Charles. 
He  never  drank,  and  rarely  spoke.  Mystery  seemed 
to  envelope  him.  No  one  knew  whence  he  came  or 
the  origin  of  his  innocent  whim.  Old  citizens  assured 
you  that,  year  after  year,  his  narrow  savings  were 
measured  by  the  increase  of  his  ornaments,  until,  at 
length,  the  value  of  the  anomalous  garments  came  to 
be  estimated  by  thousands  of  dollars.  By  ten  o'clock 
on  Sunday  night,  the  exhibition  was  closed;  his  one 
day  of  self-gratification  enjoyed;  his  costly  wardrobe 
was  returned  to  the  bank  vault,  and  he  came  back 
into  the  obscurity  of  a  wood  chopper.  Many  may 
think  that  this  man  was  a  fool,  and  very  much  unlike 
the  ordinary  young  man;  but  not  so.  Many  young 
men  do  the  same,  only  their  cloth,  their  gaudy  apparel 
are  not  so  durable;  and  they  are  not  so  economical; 
do  not  invest  in  so  valuable  material,  but  spend  their 
entire  income  (and  sometimes  more)  just  to  carry  a 
stylish,  shiney  suit  worth  about  fifty  dollars. 

There  are  a  thousand  fops  made  by  art,  for  one  fool 
made  by  nature.    How  ridiculous  a  sight,  says  Dr. 


FOPS  AND  DANDIES. 


325 


Fuller,  is  a  vain  young  gallant,  that  bristles  with  his 
plumes,  and  shakes  his  giddy  head;  and  to  no  other 
purpose  than  to  get  possession  of  a  mistress  who  is  as 
much  a  trifle  as  himself!  The  little  soul  that  converses 
of  nothing  of  more  importance  than  the  looking-glass 
and  a  fantastic  dress,  may  make  up  the  show  of  the 
world;  but  must  not  be  reckoned  among  the  rational 
inhabitants  of  it.  A  man  of  wit  may  sometimes  be  a 
•coxcomb;  but  a  man  of  judgment  and  sense  never  can. 
A  beau  dressed  out,  is  like  a  cinnamon  tree — the  bark 
is  worth  more  than  the  body.  An  ass  is  but  an  ass, 
though  laden  or  covered  with  gold.  Fops  are  more 
attentive  to  what  is  showy  than  mindful  of  what  is 
necessary.  A  fop  of  fashion  is  said  to  be  the  mercer's 
friend,  the  tailor's  fool,  and  his  own  foe.  Show  and 
substance  are  often  united,  as  an  object  and  its  shadow, 
the  sun  and  its  glory,  the  soul  and  body,  mind  and  its 
outward  actions,  love  and  its  face  of  sweetness.  And 
on  this  account  men  have  associated  the  two  so  closely 
together  as  often  to  mistake  the  one  for  the  other,  and 
hence  have  sought  for  show  as  though  it  was  substance> 
and  deceivers  have  put  the  former  in  place  of  the  latter 
to  cheat  the  world  thereby. 

Show  paints  the  hypocrite's  face  and  wags  the  liar's 
tongue.  To  discriminate  between  show  and  substance, 
to  determine  what  is  show  and  what  is  substance,  and 
what  are  substance  and  show,  is  a  work  of  critical 
judgment,  and  one  upon  which  the  excellency,  majesty, 
and  strength  of  our  life  in  no  small  degree  depends. 
There  is  show  without  substance,  there  is  substance 
without  show,  there  is  substance  and  show  together. 


326 


FOPS  AND  BANDIES. 


Dandies  and  fops  are  like  a  body  without  souly 
powder  without  ball,  lightning  without  thunderbolt.  It 
is  dress  on  a  doll,  paint  on  sand.  There  is  much  of  this 
in  the  world.  We  see  it  in  respect  to  every  thing  con- 
sidered valuable.  The  counterfeiter  gives  the  show  of 
gold  to  his  base  coin,  and  the  show  of  value  to  his 
lying  bank  note.  The  thief  hangs  out  the  appearance 
of  honesty  on  his  face,  and  the  liar  is  thunderstruck  if 
any  body  suspects  him  of  equivocation.  The  bankrupt 
carries  about  him  the  insignia  of  wealth.  The  fop  puts 
on  the  masquerade  of  dignity  and  importance,  and  the 
poor  belle,  whose  mother  washes  to  buy  her  plumes, 
outshines  the  peeress  of  the  court.  Many  a  table 
steams  with  costly  viands  for  which  the  last  cent  was 
paid,  and  many  a  coat,  sleek  and  black,  swings  on  the 
street  and  in  the  saloon  on  which  the  tailor  has  a  moral 
mortgage.  Often  do  the  drawing-room  and  parlor,  the 
wardrobe  and  coach,  speak  of  wealth  and  standing 
when,  if  they  were  not  dumb  deceivers,  they  would 
cry  out  "It's  all  a  lie."  This  is  show  without  sub- 
stance in  domestic  life.  It  is  the  grandest  lie  of  the 
world,  and  cheats  more  poor  people  out  of  their  birth- 
right than  any  other  one  species  of  wicked  show.  All 
their  thoughts,  and  labors,  and  money,  and  credit  are 
spent  to  fabricate  a  gorgeous  cheat  to  the  world,  to 
make  themselves  appear  to  be  what  they  are  not: 
when,  if  they  would  be  honest,  and  labor  for  the  true 
substance  of  life,  they  might  be,  in  reality,  what  they 
are  clownishly  aping.  They  cheat  their  souls  out  of 
honesty,  and  a  respectable  and  comfortable  moral  char- 
acter, their  bodies  out  of  the  substance  of  a  good  living 


FASHION. 


327 


themselves  out  of  a  good  name  among  their  fellows; 
yea,  they  cheat  every  thing  but  the  very  world  they 
intend  to  cheat.  That  world  sees  through  their  gossa- 
mer show,  and  laughs  at  the  foolishness  which  seeks  to 
conceal  a  want  of  substance. 

It  is  a  general  sin,  to  which  there  are  but  few  excep- 
tions; a  great  falsehood,  which  almost  every  man  is 
striving  to  make  greater.  This  great  evil  turns  society 
into  a  grand  show  room,  in  which  the  most  dextrous 
show-master  wears  the  tallest  plume.  Besides  the  sin- 
fulness of  the  thing,  it  is  a  great  domestic  bane.  It 
makes  the  poor  poorer,  and  the  rich  more  avaricious. 
It  causes  almost  every  body  to  over-live,  over-dress,, 
over-eat,  over-act  in  every  thing  that  will  make  a 
sthow.  It  is  a  great  root  of  selfishness,  a  great  weight 
of  oppression,  a  great  sink  of  meanness,"  a  great  burden, 
of  woe,  a  g*  eat  cloud  of  despair. 


No  heathen  god  or  goddess  has  ever  had  more- 
zealous  devotees  than  fashion,  or  a  more  absurd  and 
humiliating  ritual,  or  more  mortifying  and  cruel  pen- 
ances. Her  laws,  like  those  of  the  Medes  and  Persians, 
must  be  implicitly  obeyed,  but  unlike  them,  change,  as 
certainly  as  the  moon.  They  are  rarely  founded  in 
reason,  usually  violate  common  sense,  sometimes  com- 
mon  decency,  and  uniformly  common  comfort. 


328 


FASHION. 


Fashion  rules  the  world,  and  a  most  tyrannical  mis- 
tress she  is — compelling  people  to  submit  to  the  most 
inconvenient  things  imaginable  for  her  sake.  She 
pinches  our  feet  with  tight  shoes,  or  chokes  us  with  a 
tight  necker- chief,  or  squeezes  the  breath  out  of  our 
body  by  tight  lacing.  She  makes  people  sit  up  by 
night,  when  they  ought  to  be  in  bed,  and  keeps  them 
in  bed  in  the  morning  when  they  ought  to  be  up  and 
doing.  She  makes  it  vulgar  to  wait  upon  one's  self, 
and  genteel  to  live  idly  and  uselessly.  She  makes 
people  visit  when  they  would  rather  stay  at  home,  eat 
when  they  are  not  hungry,  and  drink  when  they  are 
not  thirsty.  She  invades  our  pleasures  and  interrupts 
our  business.  She  compels  people  to  dress  gaily, 
whether  upon  their  own  property  or  that  of  others — - 
whether  agreeably  to  the  word  of  God  or  the  dictates 
of  pride. 

Fashion,  unlike  custom,  never  looks  at  the  past  as  a 
precedent  for  the  present  or  future.  She  imposes  unan- 
ticipated burdens,  without  regard  to  the  strength  or 
means  of  her  hood-winked  followers,  cheating  them  out 
of  time,  fortune  and  happiness;  repaying  them  with  the 
consolation  of  being  ridiculed  by  the  wise,  endangering 
health  and  wasting  means;  a  kind  of  remuneration 
rather  paradoxical,  but  most  graciously  received.  Sem- 
blance and  shade  are  among  her  attributes.  It  is  of 
more  importance  for  her  worshipers  to  appear  happy 
than  to  be  so. 

Fashion  taxes  without  reason  and  collects  without 
mercy.  She  first  infatuates  the  court  and  aristocracy, 
and  then  ridicules  the  poor  if  th  ^y  do  not  follow  in  the 


FASHION. 


329 


wake,  although  they  die  in  the  ditch.  This  was  exem- 
plified in  the  reign  of  Richard  III.,  who  was  hump- 
backed. Monkey -like,  his  court,  at  the  dictum  of 
fashion,  all  mounted  a  bustle  on  their  backs,  and  as  this 
was  not  an  expensive  adjunct,  the  whole  nation  became 
hump-backed  —  emphatically  a  crooked  generation  — 
from  the  peasant  to  the  king,  all  were  humped. 

If  she  requires  oblations  from  the  four  quarters  of 
the  globe,  they  must  be  had,  if  wealth,  health  and 
happiness  are  the  price.  If  she  fancies  comparative 
nakedness  for  winter,  or  five  thicknesses  of  woollen  for 
dog  days — she  speaks,  and  it  is  done.  If  she  orders 
the  purple  current  of  life  and  the  organs  of  respiration 
to  be  retarded  by  steel,  whalebone,  buckram,  drill,  and 
cords — it  is  done.  Disease  laughs  and  death  grins  at 
the  folly  of  the  goddess  and  the  zeal  of  the  worship- 
ers. If  she  orders  a  bag  full  of  notions  on  the  hips,  a 
Chinese  shoe  on  the  foot,  a  short  cut,  a  trail,  a  hoop,  or 
balloon  sleeve,  or  no  sleeve,  for  a  dress,  and  a  grain  fan 
bonnet,  or  fool's  cap  for  the  head,  she  is  obsequiously 
obeyed  by  the  exquisitely  fashionable  ladies  and  lauded 
by  their  beaux.  If  she  orders,  her  male  subjects,  the 
Mordecais  and  Daniels,  tremble  at  the  gong  sound  of 
trumpet-tongued  ridicule.  Not  only  the  vain  and  giddy, 
the  thoughtless  and  rattlebrained,  dance  attendance 
upon  her,  but  many  a  statesman  and  philosopher. 

The  empress  at  Paris,  or  other  ladies  of  rank,  do 
not  originate  the  fashions,  neither  do  any  ladies  of  real 
rank  and  distinction;  they  adopt  them,  and  thus  set 
the  seal  of  their  acknowledged  authority  upon  them, 


330 


FASHION. 


but  no  lady  would  be  the  first  to  wear  a  striking  nov- 
ehry,  or  a  style  so  new,  or  so  outre  as  to  be  likely  to 
attract  public  attention.  This  is  left  for  the  leaders 
of  the  demi-monde,  several  of  whom  are  in  the  pay 
of  Parisian  dress-makers  and  modistes.  The  noted 
Worth,  the  man-milliner  of  Paris,  who  receives  all  the 
money  and  exercises  all  the  impudence  which  have 
placed  him  at  the  head  of  his  profession,  while  women 
do  all  the  work,  has  in  his  employ  a  dozen  fashion 
writers  and  several  of  the  most  noted  leaders  of  Paris- 
ian society.  These  latter  are  selected  for  their  fine 
appearance  and  dashing  manners.  Toilettes,  equipages 
and  boxes  at  the  theater  and  opera  are  provided  for 
them.  Dead  or  dying,  they  are  required  to  show 
themselves  at  these  places  on  all  suitable  occasions,  in 
extraordinary  dresses  made  by  the  "renowned"  Worthy 
as  the  fashion  correspondents  say,  who  in  this  way  take 
up  the  burden  of  the  song,  and  echo  it  even  upon  these 
Western  shores.  It  is  the  height  of  ambition  with 
some  American  women  to  go  to  I  aris,  and  have  a 
dress  made  by  Worth;  and  dearly  do  they  sometimes 
pay  for  their  folly,  not  only  in  immense  prices  for  very 
small  returns,  but  in  degrading  their  American  woman- 
hood by  following  in  so  disgraceful  a  scramble  with  so 
mixed  an  assemblage. 

Fashion  is  the  foster  mother  of  vanity,  the  offal  of 
pride,  and  has  nursed  her  pet,  until  it  is  as  fat  as  a  sea 
turtle,  is  quite  as  wicked  to  bite,  and  harder  to  kill; 
but,  unlike  that  inhabitant  of  the  herring  pond,  instead 
of  keeping  in  a  shell,  it  is  mounted  on  a  shell,  adorned 


FASHION. 


331 


with  every  flummery,  intruding  into  all  the  avenues  of 
life,  scattering  misery  far  and  wide — faithless,  fearless, 
uncompromising,  and  tyrannical. 

Then  the  example  of  a  fashionable  woman,  how  low, 
how  vulgar!  With  her  the  cut  of  a  collar,  the  depth 
of  a  flounce,  the  style  of  a  ribbon,  is  of  more  import- 
ance than  the  strength  of  a  virtue,  the  form  of  a  mind, 
or  the  style  of  a  life.  She  consults  the  fashion-plate 
oftener  than  her  Bible;  she  visits  the  dry  goods  shop 
and  the  milliner  oftener  than  the  church.  She  speaks 
of  fashion  oftener  than  of  virtue,  and  follows  it  closer 
than  she  does  her  Savior.  She  can  see  squalid  misery 
and  low-bred  vice  without  a  blush  or  a  twinge  of  the 
heart;  but  a  plume  out  of  fashion,  or  a  table  set  in  old 
style,  would  shock  her  into  a  hysteric  fit.  Her  exam- 
ple! What  is  it  but  a  breath  of  poison  to  the  young? 
[  had  as  soon  have  vice  stalking  bawdily  in  the  pres- 
ence of  my  children,  as  the  graceless  form  of  fashion. 
Vice  would  look  haggard  and  mean  at  first  sight,  but 
fashion  would  be  gilded  into  an  attractive  delusion. 
Oh,  fashion!  how  thou  art  dwarfing  the  intellect  and 
eating  out  the  heart  of  our  people!  Genius  is  dying 
on  thy  luxurious  altar.  And  what  a  sacrifice!  Talent 
is  withering  into  weakness  in  thy  voluptuous  gaze! 
Virtue  gives  up  the  ghost  at  thy  smile.  Our  youth 
are  chasing  after  thee  as  a  wanton  in  disguise.  Our 
young  women  are  the  victims  of  thine  all-greedy  lust. 
And  still  thou  art  not  satisfied,  but,  like  the  devouring 
grave,  criest  for  more. 

Friendship,  its  links  must  be  forged  on  fashion's 
anvil,  or  it  is  good  for  nothing.    How  shocking  to  be 


332 


FASHION 


friendly  with  an  unfashionable  lady!  It  will  never  do. 
How  soon  one  would  lose  caste!  No  matter  if  her 
mind  is  a  treasury  of  gems,  and  her  heart  a  flower 
garden  of  love,  and  her  life  a  hymn  of  grace  and  praise, 
it  will  not  do  to  walk  on  the  streets  with  her,  or  inti- 
mate to  anybody  that  you  know  her.  No,  one's  intimate 
friend  must  be  a  la  mode.  Better  bow  to  the  shadow 
of  a  belle's  wing  than  rest  in  the  bosom  of  a  "strong- 
minded  "  woman's  love. 

And  love,  too,  that  must  be  fashionable.  It  would 
be  unpardonable  to  love  a  plain  man  whom  fashion 
could  not  seduce,  whose  sense  of  right  dictated  his  life, 
a  man  who  does  not  walk  perpendicular  in  a  standing 
collar,  and  sport  a  watch-fob,  and  twirl  a  cane.  And 
then  to  marry  him  would  be  death.  He  would  be  just 
as  likely  to  sit  down  in  the  kitchen  as  in  the  parlor;  and 
might  get  hold  of  the  woodsaw  as  often  as  the  guitar; 
and  very  likely  he  would  have  the  baby  right  up  in  his 
arms  and  feed  it  and  rock  it  to  sleep.  A  man  who  will 
make  himself  useful  about  his  own  home  is  so  exceed- 
ingly unfashionable  that  it  will  never  do  for  a  lady  to 
marry  him.    She  would  lose  caste  at  once. 

Abused  women  generally  outlive  fashionable  ones. 
Crushed  and  care-worn  women  see  the  pampered 
daughters  of  fashion  wither  and  die  around  them,  and 
wonder  why  death  in  kindness  does  not  come  to  take 
them  away  instead.  The  reason  is  plain:  fashion  kills 
more  women  than  toil  and  sorrow.  Obedience  to  fashion 
is  a  greater  transgression  of  the  laws  of  woman's  nature, 
a  greater  injury  to  her  physical  and  mental  constitution, 
than  the  hardships  of  poverty  and  neglect.    The  slave- 


FASHION. 


333 


woman  at  her  tasks  will  live  and  grow  old  and  see  two 
or  three  generations  of  her  mistresses  fade  and  pass 
away.  The  washerwoman,  with  scarce  a  ray  of  hope 
to  cheer  her  in  her  toils,  will  live  to  see  her  fashionable 
sisters  all  die  around  her.  The  kitchen  maid  is  hearty 
and  strong,  when  her  lady  has  to  be  nursed  like  a  sick 
baby.  It  is  a  sad  truth,  that  fashion-pampered  women 
are  almost  worthless  for  all  the  great  ends  of  human 
life.  They  have  but  little  force  of  character;  they  have 
still  less  power  of  moral  will,  and  quite  as  little  physical 
energy.  They  live  for  no  great  purpose  in  life;  they 
accomplish  no  worthy  ends.  They  are  only  doll-forms 
in  the  hands  of  milliners  and  servants,  to  be  dressed  and 
fed  to  order.  They  dress  nobody;  they  feed  nobody; 
they  instruct  nobody;  they  bless  nobody,  and  save 
nobody.  They  write  no  books ;  they  set  no  rich 
examples  of  virtue  and  womanly  life.  If  they  rear 
children,  servants  and  nurses  do  it  all,  save  to  conceive 
and  give  them  birth.  And  when  reared  what  are  they? 
What  do  they  even  amount  to,  but  weaker  scions  of 
the  old  stock?  Who  ever  heard  of  a  fashionable 
woman's  child  exhibiting  any  virtue  or  power  cf  mind 
for  which  it  became  eminent?  Read  the  biographies 
of  our  great  and  good  men  and  women.  Not  one  of 
them  had  a  fashionable  mother.  They  nearly  all  sprung 
from  plain,  strong-minded  women,  who  had  about  as 
little  to  do  with  fashion  as  with  the  changing  clouds. 

There  is  one  fashion  that  never  changes.  The  spark- 
ling eye,  the  coral  lip,  the  rose  leaf  blushing  on  the 
cheek,  the  elastic  step,  are  always  in  fashion.  Health  — 
rosy,  bouncing,  gladsome  health — is  never  out  of  fash- 


334 


DRESS. 


ion ;  what  pilgrimages  are  made,  what  prayers  are 
uttered  for  its  possession!  Failing  in  the  pursuit  what 
treasures  are  lavished  in .  concealing  its  loss  or  counter- 
feiting its  charms !  (  Reader,  if  you  love  freedom  more 
than  slavery,  liberty  more  than  thraldom,  happiness 
more  than  misery,  competence  more  than  poverty, 
never  bow  your  knee  to  the  goddess  fashion. 


Looking  thus  upon  the  panoramic  field  of  God's 
works,  we  must  conclude  that  he  has  taken  especial 
care  to  gratify  the  varying  tastes  of  his  creatures. 
And  more  than  this,  we  must  conclude  that  he  himself 
has  an  infinite  taste,  which  finds  an  infinite  pleasure  in 
making  and  viewing  this  magnificent  universe  of  flash- 
ing splendor  and  somber  sweetness,  this  field  on  field, 
system  beyond  system,  far  off  where  human  eye  can 
never  reach,  all  shining  and  moving  in  an  infinite 
variety  of  forms,  colors  and  movements.  Moreover, 
we  cannot  but  feel  that  God  is  a  lover  of  dress.  He 
has  put  on  robes  of  beauty  and  glory  upon  all  his 
works.  Every  flower  is  dressed  in  richness ;  every 
field  blushes  beneath  a  mantle  of  beauty;  every  star  is 
vailed  in  brightness;  every  bird  is  clothed  in  the  habili- 
ments of  the  most  exquisite  taste.  The  cattle  upon 
the  thousand  hills  are  dressed  by  the  hand  divine. 
Who,  studying  God  in  his  works,  can  doubt  that  he 


DRESS. 


335 


will  smile  upon  the  evidence  of  correct  taste  manifested 
by  his  children  in  clothing  the  forms  he  has  made 
them  ? 

To  love  dress  is  not  to  be  a  slave  of  fashion;  to  love 
dress  only  is  the  test  of  such  homage.  To  transact  the 
business  of  charity  in  a  silk  dress,  and  to  go  in  a  carriage 
to  the  work,  injures  neither  the  work  noi  the  worker. 
The  slave  of  fashion  is  one  who  assumes  the  livery  of  a 
princess  and  then  omits  the  errand  of  the  good  human 
soul ;  dresses  in  elegance  and  goes  upon  no  good 
errand,  and  thinks  and  does  nothing  of  value  to  man 
kind.  It  does,  indeed,  appear,  that  the  woman  of  ou? 
land  is  moving  against  all  the  old  enemies  of  society* 
She  herself  rises  and  is  helping  others. 

Beauty  in  dress  is  a  good  thing,  rail  at  it  who  may. 
But  it  is  a  lower  beauty,  for  which  a  higher  beauty 
should  not  be  sacrificed.  They  love  dress  too  much 
who  give  it  their  first  thought,  their  best  time,  or  all 
their  money;  who  for  it  neglect  the  culture  of  mind  or 
heart,  or  the  claims  of  others  on  their  service;  who 
care  more  for  their  dress  than  their  disposition;  who 
are  troubled  more  by  an  unfashionable  bonnet  than  a 
neglected  duty. 

Female  loveliness  never  appears  to  so  good  advan- 
tage as  when  set  off  by  simplicity  of  dress.  No  artist 
ever  decks  his  angels  with  towering  feathers  and  gaudy 
jewelry;  and  our  dear  human  angels  —  if  they  would 
make  good  their  title  to  that  name — should  carefully 
avoid  ornaments  which  properly  belong  to  Indian 
squaws  and  African  princesses.  These  tinselries  may 
serve  to  give  effect  on  the  stage,  or  upon  the  ball  room 


336 


DMESS. 


floor,  but  in  daily  life  there  is  no  substitute  for  the 
charm  of  simplicity.  A  vulgar  taste  is  not  to  be  dis- 
guised by  gold  and  diamonds.  The  absence  of  a  true 
taste  and  refinement  of  delicacy  cannot  be  compensated 
for  by  the  possession  of  the  most  princely  fortune. 
Mind  measures  gold,  but  gold  cannot  measure  mind. 
Through  dress  the  mind  may  be  read,  as  through  the 
delicate  tissue  the  lettered  page.  A  modest  woman 
will  dress  modestly ;  a  really  refined  and  intelligent 
woman  will  bear  the  marks  of  careful  selection  and 
faultless  taste. 

A  coat  that  has  the  mark  of  use  upon  it  is  a  recom- 
mendation to  the  people  of  sense,  and  a  hat  with  too 
much  nap  and  too  high  lustre  a  derogatory  circum* 
stance.  The  best  coats  in  our  streets  are  worn  on  the 
backs  of  penniless  fops,  broken  down  merchants,  clerks 
with  pitiful  salaries,  and  men  that  do  not  pay  up.  The 
heaviest  gold  chains  dangle  from  the  fobs  of  gamblers 
and  gentlemen  of  very  limited  means ;  costly  ornaments 
on  ladies,  indicate  to  the  eyes  that  are  well  opened,  the 
fact  of  a  silly  lover  or  husband  cramped  for  funds. 
And  when  a  pretty  woman  goes  by  in  plain  and  neat 
apparel,  it  is  the  presumption  that  she  has  fair  expecta- 
tions, and  a  husband  that  can  show  a  balance  in  his 
favor.  For  women  are  like  books — too  much  gilding 
makes  men  suspicious  that  the  binding  is  the  most 
important  part.  The  body  is  the  shell  of  the  soul,  and 
the  dress  is  the  husk  of  the  body;  but  the  husk  gener- 
ally tells  what  the  kernel  is.  As  a  fashionably  dressed 
young  lady  passed  some  gentlemen,  one  of  them  raised 
his  hat,  whereupon  another,  struck  by  the  fine  appear- 


BUESS. 


337 


ance  of  the  lady,  made  some  inquiries  concerning  her> 
and  was  answered  thus:  "She  makes  a  pretty  orna- 
ment in  her  father's  house,  but  otherwise  is  of  no  use."" 

The  love  of  beauty  and  refinement  belong  to  every 
true  woman.  She  ought  to  desire,  in  moderation, 
pretty  dresses,  and  delight  in  beautiful  colors  and 
graceful  fabrics;  she  ought  to  take  a  certain,  not  too 
expensive,  pride  in  herself,  and  be  solicitous  to  have 
all  belonging  to  her  well-chosen  and  in  good  taste;  to 
care  for  the  perfect  ordering  of  her  house,  and  har- 
mony and  fitness  of  her  furniture,  the  cleanliness  of 
her  surroundings,  and  good  style  of  her  arrangements: 
she  ought  not  to  like  singularity,  either  of  habit  or 
appearance,  or  be  able  to  stand  out  against  a  fashion 
when  fashion  has  become  custom:  she  ought  to  make 
herself  conspicuous  only  by  the  perfection  of  her  taste,, 
by  the  grace  and  harmony  of  her  dress,  and  unobtru- 
sive good-breeding  of  her  manners:  she  ought  to  set 
the  seal  of  gentlewoman  on  every  square  inch  of  her 
life,  and  shed  the  radiance  of  her  own  beauty  and 
refinement  on  every  material  object  about  her. 

The  richest  dress  is  always  worn  on  the  soul.  The 
adornments  that  will  not  perish,  and  that  all  men  most 
admire,  shine  from  the  heart  through  this  life.  God 
has  made  it  our  highest,  holiest  duty  to  dress  the  soul 
he  has  given  us.  It  is  wicked  to  waste  it  in  frivolity. 
It  is  a  beautiful,  undying,  precious  thing.  If  every 
young  woman  would  think  of  her  soul  when  she  looks 
in  the  glass,  would  hear  the  cry  of  her  naked  mind 
when  she  dallies  away  her  precious  hours  at  her  toilet, 
would  listen  to  the  sad  moaning  of  her  hollow  heart? 
22 


338 


DRESS. 


as  it  wails  through  her  idle,  useless  life,  something 
would  be  done  for  the  elevation  of  womanhood.  Com- 
pare a  well-dressed  body  with  a  well-dressed  mind. 
Compare  a  taste  for  dress  with  a  taste  for  knowledge, 
culture,  virtue,  and  piety.  Dress  up  an  ignorant  young 
woman  in  the  "height  of  fashion";  put  on  plumes  and 
flowers,  diamonds  and  gewgaws;  paint  her  face  and 
girt  up  her  waist,  and  I  ask  you  if  this  side  of  a  painted 
feathered  savage,  you  can  find  any  thing  more  unpleas- 
ant to  behold.  And  yet  just  such  young  women  we 
meet  by  the  hundred  every  day  on  the  street  and  in 
all  our  public  places.  It  is  awful  to  think  of.  Why  is 
it  so?  It  is  only  because  woman  is  regarded  as  a  doll 
to  be  dressed — a  plaything  to  be  petted  —  a  house 
ornament  to  exhibit  —  a  thing  to  be  used  and  kept 
from  crying  with  a  sugar-plum  show. 

What  multitudes  of  young  women  waste  all  that  is 
precious  in  life  on  the  Unified  fooleries  of  the  toilet. 
How  the  soul  of  womanhood  is  dwarfed  and  shriv- 
elled by  such  trifles,  kept  away  from  the  great  fields 
of  active  thought  and  love  by  the  gewgaws  she  hangs 
on  her  bonnet !  How  light  must  be  that  thing  which 
will  float  on  the  sea  of  passion — a  bubble,  a  feather, 
a  puff-ball!  And  yet  multitudes  of  women  float  there, 
live  there,  and  call  it  life.  Poor  things!  Scum  on  the 
surface!  But  there  is  a  truth,  young  women;  woman 
was  made  for  a  higher  purpose,  a  nobler  use,  a  grander 
destiny.  Her  powers  are  rich  and  strong;  her  genius 
bold  and  daring.  She  may  walk  the  fields  of  thought, 
achieve  the  victories  of  mind,  spread  around  her  the 
testimonials  of  her  worth,  and  make  herself  known 


DBES8. 


339 


and  felt  as  man's  co-worker  and  equal  in  whatsoever 
exalts  mind,  embellishes  life,  or  sanctifies  humanity. 

The  true  object  and  importance  of  taste  in  dress  few 
understand.  Let  no  woman  suppose  that  any  man  can 
be  really  indifferent  to  her  appearance.  The  instinct 
may  be  deadened  in  his  mind  by  a  slatternly,  negligent 
mother,  or  by  plain  maiden  sisters;  but  she  may  be 
sure  it  is  there,  and,  with  little  adroitness,  capable  of 
revival.  Of  course,  the  immediate  effect  of  a  well- 
chosen  feminine  toilet  operates  differently  in  different 
minds.  In  some,  it  causes  a  sense  of  actual  pleasure; 
in  others,  a  consciousness  of  passive  enjoyment.  In 
some,  it  is  intensely  felt  while  it  is  present;  in  others 
only  missed  when  it  is  gone. 

Dress  affects  our  manners.  A  man  who  is  badly 
dressed  feels  chilly,  sweaty,  and  prickly.  He  stam- 
mers, and  does  not  always  tell  the  truth.  He  means 
to,  perhaps,  but  he  can't.  He  is  half  distracted  about 
his  pantaloons,  which  are  much  too  short,  and  are  con- 
stantly hitching  up;  or  his  frayed  jacket  and  crumpled 
linen  harrow  his  soul,  and  quite  unmans  him.  He 
treads  on  the  train  of  a  lady^s  dress,  and  says  "Thank 
you,"  sits  down  on  his  hat,  and  wishes  the  "desert  were 
his  dwelling  place." 

A  friend  of  ours,  who  had  long  been  absent,  returned 
and  called  upon  two  beautiful  young  ladies  of  his 
acquaintance.  One  came  quickly  to  greet  him  in  the 
neat,  yet  not  precise  attire,  in  which  she  was  perform- 
ing her  household  duties.  The  other,  after  the  lapse 
of  half  an  hour,  made  her  stately  entrance,  in  all  the 
primness  of  starch  and  ribbons,  with  which,  on  the 


340 


CHURCH  DRESS. 


announcement  of  his  entrance,  she  had  hastened  to 
bedeck  herself.  Our  friend,  who  had  long  been  hes- 
itating on  his  choice  between  the  two,  now  hesitated 
no  longer.  The  cordiality  with  which  the  first  has- 
tened to  greet  him,  and  the  charming  carelessness  of 
her  attire,  entirely  won  his  heart.  She  is  now  his 
wife.  Young  ladies,  take  warning  from  the  above, 
and  never  refuse  to  see  a  friend  because  you  have  on 
a  wash  gown.  Be  assured  the  true  gentleman  will  not 
think  less  of  you  because  he  finds  you  in  the  perform- 
ance of  your  duties,  and  not  ashamed  to  let  it  be 
known.  Besides,  there  may  positively  be  a  grace,  a 
witching  wildness  about  an  every-day  dress,  that  adds 
to  every  charm  of  face  and  feature. 


The  best  bred  people  of  every  Christian  country,  but 
our  own,  avoid  all  personal  display  when  engaged  in 
worship  and  prayer.  Our  churches,  on  the  contrary, 
are  made  places  for  the  exhibition  of  fine  apparel  and 
other  costly,  flaunting  compliances  with  fashion;  by 
those  who  boast  of  superior  wealth  and  manners.  We 
shall  leave  our  gewgawed  devotees  to  reconcile  humilia- 
tion in  worship  with  vanity  in  dress.  That  is  a  problem 
which  we  confess  we  have  neither  the  right  nor  the 
capacity  to  solve.  How  far  fine  clothes  may  affect  the 
personal  piety  of  the  devotee  we  do  not  pretend  even 


CHURCH  DRESS. 


341 


to  conjecture;  but  we  have  a  very  decided  opinion  in 
regard  to  their  influence  upon  the  religion  of  others. 
The  fact  is,  that  our  churches  are  so  fluttering  with 
birds  of  fine  feathers,  that  no  sorry  fowl  will  venture  in. 
It  is  impossible  for  poverty  in  rags  and  patches,  or  even 
in  decent  but  humble  costume,  to  take  its  seat,  if  it 
should  be  so  fortunate  as  to  find  a  place,  by  the  side  of 
wealth  in  brocade  and  broadcloth.  The  poor  are  so 
awed  by  the  pretension  of  superior  dress  and  "the 
proud  man's  costume,"  that  they  naturally  avoid  too 
close  a  proximity  to  them.  The  church  being  the  only 
place  on  this  side  of  the  grave  designed  for  the  rich 
and  the  poor  to  meet  together  in  equal  prostration 
before  God,  it  certainly  should  always  be  kept  free  for 
this  common  humiliation  and  brotherhood.  It  is  so  in 
most  of  the  churches  in  Europe,  where  the  beggar  in 
rags  and  wretchedness,  and  the  wealthiest  and  most 
-eminent,  whose  appropriate  sobriety  of  dress  leaves 
them  without  mark  of  external  distinction,  kneel  down 
together,  equalized  by  a  common  humiliation  before 
the  only  Supreme  Being. 

No  person  can  attend  upon  the  services  of  any  of 
our  churches  in  towns  and  cities,  and  worship  God  with- 
out distraction.  One  needs  continually  to  offer  the 
prayer  "take  off  my  eyes  from  beholding  vanity."  But 
he  must  be  blind  to  have  his  prayer  answered,  for  the 
sight  of  the  eyes  always  affects  the  heart.  There  is 
the  rustle  of  rich  silks,  the  flutter  of  gay  fans,  the  nod- 
ding of  plumes  and  flowers;  the  tilting  of  laces,  of 
aibbons,  of  curls;  here  is  a  head  frizzed  till  it  looks 
more  like  a  picture  of  the  Furies  than  that  of  a  Miss 


342 


MANNERS 


of  "sweet  sixteen,"  and  there  is  another  with  hair 
hanging  full  length,  waxed  and  dressed  so  as  to  four- 
fold its  quantity;  there  are  bracelets  and  ear-rings,  and 
fantasies  of  every  sort  and  every  hue;  everything  that 
is  absurd  and  foolish  in  fashion,  and  everything  that  is 
grotesque  and  ridiculous  in  trying  to  ape  fashion;  all 
these  are  before  you,  between  you  and  the  speaker,  the 
altar  whereon  is  laid  the  sacrifice  of  prayer,  and  from 
whence  the  truth  is  dispensed!  How  can  you  worship 
God?  how  can  you  hear  with  any  profit? 

With  dress  and  fashion,  its  propriety,  its  sin  or  folly, 
in  the  abstract,  we  are  not  now  dealing;  only  with  its 
improper  display  in  the  house  of  God.  If  persons  have 
the  taste,  and  the  means  to  gratify  that  taste,  in  expen- 
sive, showy  apparel,  let  them  have  it  to  display  at 
home,  or  abroad,  at  parties,  at  the  opera — anywhere, 
but  in  the  sanctuary. 

The  adoption  of  more  simple  apparel  for  church  on 
the  part  of  the  rich,  in  this  country,  would  have  the 
effect,  certainly  not  of  diminishing  their  own  personal 
piety,  but  probably  of  increasing  the  disposition  for 
religious  observance  on  the  part  of  the  poor. 


Manners  are  different  in  every  country;  but  true 
politeness  is  everywhere  the  same.  Manners,  which 
take  up  so  much  of  our  attention,  are  only  artificial 


MANNERS. 


343 


helps  which  ignorance  assumes  in  order  to  imitate 
politeness,  which  is  the  result  of  good  sense  and  good 
nature.  A  person  possessed  of  those  qualities,  though 
he  had  never  seen  a  court,  is  truly  agreeable;  and  if 
without  them,  would  continue  a  clown,  though  he  had 
been  all  his  life  a  gentleman  usher.  He  who  assumes 
airs  of  importance  exhibits  his  credentials  of  insignifi- 
cance. There  is  no  policy  like  politeness;  and  a  good 
manner  is  the  best  thing  in  the  world  to  get  a  good 
name,  or  to  supply  the  want  of  it.  Good  manners  are 
a  part  of  good  morals,  and  it  is  as  much  our  duty  as 
our  interest  to  practice  in  both.  Good  manners  is  the 
art  of  making  those  around  us  easy.  Whoever  makes 
the  fewest  persons  uneasy  is  the  best  bred  man  in 
the  company.  Good  manners  should  begin  at  home. 
Politeness  is  not  an  article  to  be  worn  in  all  dress  only, 
to  be  put  on  when  we  have  a  complimentary  visit.  A 
person  never  appears  so  ridiculous  by  the  qualities  he 
has,  as  by  those  he  affects  to  have.  He  gains  more  by 
being  contented  to  be  seen  as  he  is,  than  by  attempting 
to  appear  what  he  is  not.  Good  manners  is  the  result 
of  much  good  sense,  some  good  nature,  and  a  little 
self-denial,  for  the  sake  of  others,  and  with  a  view  to 
obtain  the  same  indulgence  from  them.  "Manners 
make  the  man,"  says  the  proverb.  It  may  be  true  that 
some  men's  manners  have  been  the  making  of  them;: 
but  as  manners  are  rather  the  expression  of  the  man, 
it  would  be  more  proper  to  say — the  man  makes  the 
manners.  Social  courtesies  should  emanate  from  the 
heart,  for  remember  always  that  the  worth  of  manners 
consists  in  being  the  sincere  expressions  of  feelings* 


344 


MANNERS. 


Like  the  dial  of  the  watch,  they  should  indicate  that 
the  work  within  is  good  and  true. 

The  young  should  be  mannerly,  but  they  feel  timid, 
bashful  and  self-distrustful  the  moment  they  are  ad- 
dressed by  a  stranger,  or  appear  m  company.  There 
is  but  one  way  to  get  over  this  feeling,  and  acquire 
easy  and  graceful  manners,  and  that  is  to  do  the  best 
they  can  at  home  as  well  as  abroad.  Good  manners 
are  not  learned  so  much  as  acquired  by  habit.  They 
grow  upon  us  by  use.  We  must  be  courteous,  agree- 
able, civil,  kind,  gentlemanly,  and  manly  at  home,  and 
then  it  will  become  a  kind  of  second  nature  every- 
where. A  coarse  rough  manner  at  home  begets  a 
habit  of  roughness,  which  we  cannot  lay  off  if  we  try, 
when  we  go  among  strangers.  The  most  agreeable 
persons  in  company  are  those  who  are  the  most  agree- 
able at  home.  Home  is  the  school  for  all  the  best 
things. 

Good  manners  are  an  essential  part  of  life-education, 
and  their  importance  cannot  be  too  largely  magnified, 
when  we  consider  that  the}'  are  the  outward  expression 
of  an  inward  virtue  And  how  often  is  this  exhibition 
of  the  virtues  of  frankness,  gentleness  and  sweet  sim- 
plicity, the  safest  and  surest  recommendation  of  those 
who  come  to  us  as  strangers  in  quest  of  friendly  aid. 
It  is  quite  marvelous,  from  the  fact  that  by  no  special 
training,  no  aristocratic  examples,  no  conventionalities 
but  those  of  nature,  the  gifts  of  good  sense,  a  true 
sense  of  propriety  and  native  tact,  are  sufficient  qualifi- 
cations to  enable  us  to  glide  freely  and  irreproachably 
among  the  elaborated  subjects  of  a  regal  court,  A 


MANNERS.  345 

foreigner  once  remarked  to  me,  "An  American  is 
received  in  any  circle  in  England,"  but  were  we  boorish 
in  manner,  and  without  mental  accomplishments,  this 
privilege  would  not  be  accorded  us. 

The  true  art  of  being  agreeable  is  to  appear  well 
pleased  with  all  the  company,  and  rathci  to  seem  well 
entertained  with  them,  than  to  bring  entertainment  to 
them.  A  man  thus  disposed,  perhaps,  may  not  have 
much  sense,  learning,  nor  any  wit ,  but  if  he  has  common, 
and  something  friendly  in  his  behavior,  it  conciliates 
men's  minds  more  than  the  brightest  parts  without  this 
disposition;  it  is  true  indeed  that  we  should  not  dis- 
semble and  flatter  in  company;  but  a  man  may  be 
very  agreeable,  strictly  consistent  with  truth  and  sin- 
cerity, by  a  prudent  silence  where  he  cannot  concur, 
and  a  pleasing  assent  where  he  can  Now  and  then 
3^ou  meet  with  a  person  so  exactly  formed  to  please 
that  he  will  gain  upon  every  one  that  hears  or  beholds 
him;  this  disposition  is  not  merely  the  gift  of  nature, 
but  frequently  the  effect  of  much  knowledge  of  the 
world,  and  a  command  over  the  passions. 

It  is  unfortunate  that  the  agreeable  should  be  so 
often  found  in  unison  with  the  frivolous,  for  frivolity 
makes  great  encroachments  upon  dignity. 

Levity  of  manners  is  prejudicial  to  every  virtue. 
Avoid  all  sourness  and  austerity  of  manners.  Virtue 
is  a  pleasant  and  agreeable  quality,  and  gay  and  civil 
wisdom  is  always  engaging. 

There  are  a  thousand  pretty,  engaging  little  ways, 
which  every  person  may  put  on9  without  running  the 
risk  of  being  deemed  either  affected  or  foppish.  The 


346 


MANNERS. 


sweet  smile ;  the  quiet,  cordial  bow ;  the  earnest 
movement  in  addressing  a  friend — more  especially 
a  stranger — whom  one  may  recommend  to  our  good 
regards;  the  inquiring  glance;  the  graceful  attention, 
which  is  so  captivating  when  united  with  self-posses- 
sion; these  will  secure  us  the  good  regards  ot  even  a 
churl.  Above  all,  there  is  a  certain  softness  of  manner 
which  should  be  cultivated,  and  which,  in  either  man 
or  woman,  adds  a  charm  that  always  entirely  compen- 
sates for  a  lack  of  beauty. 

Lord  Chatham,  who  was  almost  as  remarkable  for 
his  manners  as  for  his  eloquence  and  public  spirit,  has 
thus  defended  good  breeding:  "Benevolence  is  trifles, 
or  a  preference  of  others  to  ourselves  in  the  little  daily 
occurrences  of  life." 

Says  Emerson,  "I  wish  cities  would  teach  their  best 
lesson  —  of  quiet  manners."  It  is  the  foible  especially 
of  American  youth — pretension.  The  mark  of  the 
man  of  the  world  is  absence  of  pretension.  He  does 
not  make  a  speech ;  he  takes  a  low  business  tone, 
avoids  all  brag,  is  nobody,  dresses  plainly,  promises  not 
at  all,  performs  much,  speaks  in  monosyllables,  hugs 
his  fact.  He  calls  his  employment  by  its  lowest  name, 
and  so  takes  irom  evil  tongues  their  sharpest  weapon. 
His  conversation  clings  to  the  weather  and  the  news, 
yet  he  allows  himself  to  be  surprised  into  thought,  and 
the  unlocking  of  his  learning  and  philosophy. 

One  of  the  most  marked  tests  of  character  is  the 
manner  in  which  we  conduct  ourselves  toward  others. 
A  graceful  behavior  toward  superiors,  inferiors,  and 
equals,  is  a  constant  source  of  pleasure.    It  pleases 


MANNERS. 


347 


others  because  it  indicates  respect  for  their  personality,, 
but  it  gives  tenfold  more  pleasure  to  ourselves.  Every 
man  may  to  a  large  extent  be  a  self-educator  in  good 
behavior,  as  in  everything  else;  he  can  be  civil  and 
kind,  if  he  will,  though  he  have  not  a  penny  in  his 
purse. 

If  dignity  exists  in  the  mind,  it  will  not  be  wanting 
in  the  manners.  When  no  seat  was  offered  to  the 
Indian  chief  Tecumseh,  in  the  council,  and  he  ex- 
claimed, in  a  spirit  of  elevated  but  offended  pride,  (at 
the  same  time  wrapping  his  blanket  around  him). 
"The  sun  is  my  father,  and  the  earth  is  my  mother,  I 
will  recline  upon  her  bosom,"  and  then  seated  himself 
upon  the  ground,  he  displayed  a  striking  instance  of 
genuine  and  manly  dignity.  He  might  have  stood  for 
centuries,  making  Parisian  attitudes  and  grimaces, 

"With  studied  gestures  or  well-practised  smiles," 

and  not  have  been  half  so  noble,  commanding  and  dig- 
nified, as  by  this  sublime  expression  and  this  simple  act. 

Dr.  Hall  says:  "The  language  of  a  man  is  a  reason- 
ably good  index  of  his  character:  the  trifler  abounds 
in  slang  words  and  slang  phrases;  the  vulgar  and  low- 
bred use  most  glibly  the  depreciative  adjective;  they 
revel  in  the  expletives  of  liar,  scoundrel,  swindler;  the 
educated,  the  cultivated,  and  the  refined,  speak  softly, 
quietly,  gently;  every  word  is  uttered  with  composure, 
even  under  circumstances  of  aggravation;  if  annoyed, 
their  severest  reproof  is  expressive  silence;  and  always 
they  maintain  their  self-respect." 

Manners  are  the  ornament  of  action;  and  there  is  a 


MANNERS. 


way  of  speaking  a  kind  word,  or  of  doing  a  kind  thing, 
which  greatly  enhances  their  value,  What  seems  to 
be  done  with  a  grudge,  or  as  an  act  of  condescension, 
is  scarcely  accepted  as  a  favor.  Yet  there  are  men 
who  pride  themselves  upon  their  gruffness;  and  though 
they  may  possess  virtue  and  capacity,  their  manner  is 
often  formed  to  render  them  almost  insupportable.  It 
is  difficult  to  like  a  man  who,  though  he  may  not  pull 
your  nose,  habitually  wounds  your  self-respect,  and 
takes  a  pride  in  saying  disagreeable  things  to  you. 
There  are  others  who  are  dreadfully  condescending, 
&nd  cannot  avoid  seizing  upon  every  small  opportunity 
of  making  their  greatness  felt. 

The  cultivation  of  manner — though  in  excess  it  is 
foppish  and  foolish — is  highly  necessary  in  a  person 
who  has  occasion  to  negotiate  with  others  in  matters 
of  business.  Affability  and  good-breeding  may  even 
be  regarded  as  essential  to  the  success  of  a  man  in 
any  eminent  station  and  enlarged  sphere  of  life;  for 
the  want  of  it  has  not  unfrequently  been  found  in  a 
great  measure  to  neutralize  the  results  of  much  indus- 
try, integrity,  and  honesty  of  character.  There  are, 
no  doubt,  a  few  strong  tolerant  minds  which  can  bear 
with  defects  and  angularities  of  manner,  and  look  only 
to  the  more  genuine  qualities;  but  the  world  at  large 
is  not  so  forbearant,  and  cannot  help  forming  its 
judgments  and  likings  mainly  according  to  outward 
conduct. 

Agreeable  manners  contribute  wonderfully  to  a 
man's  success.  Take  two  men,  possessing  equal 
advantages  in  every  other  respect;  but  let  one  be 


MANNERS. 


340 


gentlemanly,  kind,  obliging  and  conciliating;  the 
other  disobliging,  rude,  harsh  and  insolent,  and  the 
one  will  become  rich  while  the  other  will  starve. 

Good  manners  are  not  only  an  embellishment  to 
personal  charms,  but  an  excellent  substitute  for  them 
when  they  do  not  exist.  When  the  attractions  of 
beauty  have  disappeared,  there  should  be  an  elegance 
and  refinement  of  manners  to  supply  their  place. 
Beauty  is  the  gift  of  nature,  but  manners  are  acquired 
by  cultivation  and  practice;  and  the  neglect  of  them  is 
seldom  pardoned  by  the  world,  which  exacts  this  defer- 
ence to  its  opinions,  and  this  conformity  to  the  least 
mistakable  of  its  judgments. 

The  accomplishments  so  much  esteemed  in  some 
parts  of  the  world,  may  be  disregarded  elsewhere, 
but  wisdom  and  virtue,  intelligence  and  worth,  are 
universally  respected  and  appreciated,  and  exhibit  that 
kind  of  deportment  which  is  everywhere  approved  and 
honored. 

If  Christianity  had  no  higher  recommendation  than 
this,  that  it  makes  a  man  a  gentleman,  it  would  still 
be  an  invaluable  element.  The  New  Testament  incul- 
cates good  manners.  Our  Savior  was  courteous  even 
to  his  persecutors.  Look  at  Paul  before  Agrippa! 
His  speech  is  a  model  of  dignified  courtesy  as  well  as 
of  persuasive  eloquence.  A  spirit  of  kindly  consider- 
ation for  all  men  characterized  the  Twelve,  The  same 
mild,  self-sacrificing  spirit  which  pervaded  the  sayings 
and  doings  of  the  early  disciples  is  exhibited  by  the 
true  followers  of  the  cross  at  the  present  day.  A 
man,  it  is  true,  may  be  superficially  polite  without 


350 


THE  TRUE  GENTLEMAN. 


being  a  Christian;  but  a  Christian,  by  the  very  con- 
ditions of  his  creed  and  the  obligations  of  his  faith,  is 
necessarily  in  mind  and  soul — and  therefore  in  word 
and  act — a  gentleman 


When  you  have  found  a  man,  you  have  not  far  to 
go  to  find  a  gentleman.  You  cannot  make  a  gold  ring 
out  of  brass.  You  cannot  change  a  Cape  May  crystal 
to  a  diamond.  You  cannot  make  a  gentleman  till  you 
first  find  a  man. 

To  be  a  gentleman  is  not  sufficient  to  have  had  a 
grandfather.  To  be  a  gentleman  does  not  depend  on 
the  tailor  or  the  toilet.  Blood  will  degenerate.  Good 
clothes  are  not  good  habits. 

A  gentleman  is  a  man  who  is  gentle.  Titles,  graceful 
accomplishments,  superior  culture,  princely  wealth,  great 
talents,  genius,  do  not  constitute  a  man  with  all  the 
attributes  needed  to  make  him  a  gentleman.  He  may 
be  awkward,  angular,  homely,  or  poor,  and  yet  belong 
to  the  uncrowned  aristocracy.  His  face  may  be  bronzed 
at  the  forge  or  bleached  in  the  mill,  his  hand  huge  and 
hard,  his  patched  vest,  like  Joseph's  coat  of  many 
colors,  and  he  may  still  be  a  true  gentleman.  The 
dandy  is  a  dry  goods  sign,  and  not  a  gentleman,  for  he 
depends  upon  dress  and  not  upon  his  honor  and  virtue, 


THE  TRUE  GENTLEMAN. 


351 


for  his  passport  to  the  best  circles  of  society.  "The 
man  who  has  no  money  is  poor,  he  who  has  nothing 
but  money  is  poorer  than  he,"  and  is  not  a  gentleman, 
Some  of  the  most  distinguished  men  in  the  world  of 
letters,  in  the  world  of  art,  have  been  unamiable,  gross 
vulgar,  ungentle,  consequently  not  gentlemen. 

There  is  true  dignity  in  labor,  and  no  true  dignit} 
without  it.  He  who  looks  down  scornfully  on  labor  is 
like  Hermes,  who  had  a  mouth  and  no  hands,  and  yet 
made  faces  at  those  who  fed  him — mocking  the  fingers 
that  brought  bread  to  his  lips. 

He  who  writes  a  book,  or  builds  a  house,  or  tills  a 
farm,  or  follows  any  useful  employment,  lives  to  some 
purpose,  and  contributes  something  to  the  fund  of 
human  happiness. 

Garibaldi,  the  greatest  hero  of  the  age,  is  a  working 
man.  Henry  Clay  was  "the  mill-boy  of  the  slashes." 
Daniel  Webster  knit  his  iron  frame  into  strength  by 
working  on  his  father's  farm  when  young. 

A  gentleman  is  a  human  being,  combining  a  woman's 
tenderness  with  a  man's  courage. 

A  gentleman  is  just  a  gentleman:  no  more,  no  less; 
a  diamond  polished  that  was  first  a  diamond  in  the 
rough.  A  gentleman  is  gentle.  A  gentleman  is  modest. 
A  gentleman  is  courteous.  A  gentleman  is  slow  to  take 
offense,  as  being  one  who  never  gives  it.  A  gentleman 
is  slow  to  surmise  evil,  as  being  one  who  never  thinks 
it.  A  gentleman  subjects  his  appetites.  A  gentleman 
refines  his  taste.  A  gentleman  subdues  his  feelings. 
A  gentleman  controls  his  speech.  A  gentleman  deems 
every  other  better  than  himself. 


352 


THE  TRUE  GENTLEMAN. 


Sir  Philip  Sydney  was  never  so  much  of  a  gentle- 
man—  mirror  though  he  was  of  English  knighthood — 
as  when,  upon  the  field  of  Zutphen,  as  he  lay  in  his 
own  blood,  he  waived  the  draught  of  cool  spring  water  ? 
that  was  to  quench  his  dying  thirst,  in  favor  of  a  dying 
soldier. 

St.  Paul  describes  a  gentleman  when  he  exhorted  the 
Philippian  Christians:  "Whatsoever  things  are  true? 
whatsoever  things  are  pure,  whatsoever  things  are 
lovely,  whatsoever  things  are  of  good  report,  if  there 
be  any  virtue,  and  if  there  be  any  praise,  think  of  these 
things."  And  Dr.  Isaac  Barlow,  in  his  admirable  ser- 
mon on  the  callings  of  a  gentleman,  pointedly  says: 
"  He  should  labor  and  study  to  be  a  leader  unto  virtue, 
and  a  notable  promoter  thereof;  directing  and  exciting 
men  thereto  by  his  exemplary  conversation;  encourag- 
ing them  by  his  countenance  and  authority;  rewarding 
the  goodness  of  meaner  people  by  his  bounty  and  favor; 
he  should  be  such  a  gentleman  as  Noah,  who  preached 
righteousness  by  his  words  and  works  before  a  profane 
world." 

One  very  frequently  hears  the  remark  made,  that 
such  and  such  a  man  "can  be  a  gentleman  when  he 
pleases."  Now  when  our  reader  next  hears  this  expres- 
sion made  use  of,  let  him  call  to  mind  the  following: 
He  who  "can  be  a  gentleman  when  he  pleases,"  never 
pleases  to  be  anything  else. 

A  gentleman,  like  porcelain  ware,  must  be  painted 
before  it  is  glazed.  There  can  be  no  change  after  it  is 
burned  in. 

The  sword  of  the  best-tempered  metal  is  the  most 


THE  TRUE  GENTLEMAN. 


353 


flexible,  so  the  truly  generous  are  the  most  pliant  and 
courteous  in  their  behavior  to  their  inferiors. 

The  true  gentleman  is  one  whose  nature  has  been 
fashioned  after  the  highest  models.  His  qualities  depend 
not  upon  fashion  or  manners,  but  upon  moral  worth  — 
not  on  personal  possessions,  but  on  personal  qualities. 
The  psalmist  briefly  describes  him  as  one  "that  walketh 
uprightly,  and  worketh  righteousness,  and  speaketh  the 
truth  in  his  heart." 

The  gentleman  is  eminently  distinguished  by  his  self- 
respect.  He  values  his  character — not  so  much  of  it 
only  as  can  be  seen  by  others,  but  as  he  sees  it  himself, 
having  regard  for  the  approval  of  his  inward  monitor. 
And,  as  he  respects  himself,  so,  by  the  same  law,  does 
he  respect  others.  Humanity  is  sacred  in  his  eyes,  and 
thence  proceed  politeness  and  forbearance,  kindness  and 
charity. 

The  true  gentleman  has  a  keen  sense  of  honor — 
scrupulously  avoiding  mean  actions.  His  standard  of 
probity  in  word  and  action  is  high.  He  does  not  shuffle 
nor  prevaricate,  dodge  nor  skulk;  but  is  honest,  upright, 
and  straightforward.  His  law  is  rectitude — action  in 
right  lines.  When  he  says  yes,  it  is  a  law;  and  he 
dares  to  say  the  valiant  no  at  the  fitting  season.  The 
gentleman  will  not  be  bribed;  only  the  low-minded  and 
unprincipled  will  sell  themselves  to  those  who  are 
interested  in  buying  them. 

Riches  and  rank  have  no  necessary  connection  with 
genuine  gentlemanly  qualities.  The  poor  man  may  be 
a  true  gentleman — in  spirit  and  in  daily  life.  He  may 
be  honest,  truthful,  upright,  polite,  temperate,  courage- 
23 


354 


WIT. 


ous,  self-respecting  and  self-helping — that  is,  be  a  true 
gentleman.  The  poor  man  with  a  rich  spirit  is  in  all 
ways  superior  to  the  rich  man  with  a  poor  spirit.  To 
borrow  St.  Paul's  words,  the  former  is  as  "having 
nothing,  yet  possessing  all  things,"  while  the  other, 
though  possessing  all  things,  has  nothing.  The  first 
hopes  everything  and  fears  nothing;  the  last  hopes 
nothing  and  fears  everything.  Only  the  poor  in  spirit 
are  really  poor.  He  who  has  lost  all,  but  retains  his 
courage,  cheerfulness,  hope,  virtue  and  self-respect,  is  a 
true  gentleman, 

V  Ui   r       With  -  -%f 

Sense  is  our  helmet  —  wit  is  but  a  plume  ; 
The  plume  exposes —  'tis  our  helmet  saves. 

—  Young. 

Genuine  wit  may  be  compared  to  a  kaleidoscope; 
every  time  it  is  shaken,  it  presents  new  and  beautiful 
figures.  The  latter  pleases  the  eye,  and  enables  carpet 
and  calico  manufacturers  to  obtain  new  designs  for 
their  work;  the  former  pleases  us  all  over,  without 
really  benefiting  us  any  where.  Like  lightning  in  a 
dark  night,  its  illuminations  are  momentary  in  most 
cases.  Sheridans  and  Hopkinsons  are  very  rare.  They 
were  as  highly  charged  with  wit,  as  a  cloud  sometimes 
is  with  the  electric  fluid,  emitting  flashes  in  such  quick 
succession,  that  darkness  is  scarcely  visible. 


WIT. 


355 


Wit,  like  a  coquette,  is  pleasing  company  for  the 
time  being;  but  no  man,  knowing  her  character,  courts 
her  with  the  intention  of  marriage,  and  no  sensible 
man  is  long  edified  with  her  company. 

He  who  endeavors  to  oblige  the  company  by  his 
good-nature  never  fails  of  being  beloved;  he  who 
strives  to  entertain  it  by  his  good  sense  never  fails 
of  being  esteemed;  but  he  who  is  continually  aiming 
to  be  witty,  generally  miscarries  of  his  aim;  his  aim 
and  intention  is  to  be  admired,  but  it  is  his  misfortune 
either  to  be  despised  or  detested — to  be  despised  for 
want  of  judgment,  or  detested  for  want  of  humanity. 
For  we  seldom  admire  the  wit  when  we  dislike  the 
man.  There  are  a  great  many  to  whom  the  world 
would  be  so  charitable  as  to  allow  them  to  have  a 
tolerable  share  of  common  sense;  if  they  did  not  set 
up  for  something  more  than  common,  something  very 
uncommon,  bright,  and  witty.  If  we  wou]d  trace  the 
faults  of  conversation  up  to  their  original  source,  most 
of  them  might,  I  believe,  be  resolved  into  this,  that 
men  had  rather  appear  shining  than  be  agreeable  in 
company.  They  are  endeavoring  to  raise  admiration 
instead  of  gaining  love  and  good-will,  whereas  the 
latter  is  in  everybody's  power,  the  former  in  that  of 
very  few. 

There  is  as  much  difference  between  wit  and  wisdom, 
as  between  the  talent  of  a  buffoon  and  a  statesman. 
Wit  is  brushwood,  judgment  is  timber.  The  one 
gives  the  greatest  flame,  the  other  yields  the  most 
durable  heat;  and  both  meeting  makes  the  best  fire. 

Wit  and  wisdom  may  be  found  in  the  same  person 


356 


WIT. 


but  when  the  former  is  flashing,  its  glare  hides  the 
latter.  It  serves  to  amuse  and  exhilarate,  but  rarely 
produces  profitable  reflection,  or  elevates  sound  com- 
mon sense.  It  is  emphatically  a  plume,  and  exposes 
the  head  it  ornaments,  to  many  an  arrow  from  the  bow 
of  revenge.  Some  wits  had  rather  lose  a  friend  than 
a  keen,  cutting  remark  upon  him.  This  has  often 
occurred,  and  is  exchanging  treasure  for  trash.  Wit 
may  obtain  many  conquests,  but  no  willing  subjects. 
It  is  like  echo,  it  always  has  the  last  word.  It  is  more 
difficult  to  manage  than  steam,  and  often  wounds  by 
its  explosions.  It  produces-  many  bon  mots,  and  but 
few  wise  sayings.  It  is  like  some  heartless  sportsmen, 
who  shoot  every  bird  indiscriminately,  and  kill  more 
innocent  ones,  unfit  for  food,  than  hawks,  that  prey 
upon  our  poultry. 

Wit  loses  its  respect  with  the  good  when  seen  in 
company  with  malice;  and  to  smile  at  the  jest  which 
plants  a  thorn  in  another's  breast,  is  to  become  a 
principal  in  the  mischief. 

Finally,  flashing  wit  is  an  undefined  and  undefmable 
propensity — more  to  be  admired  than  coveted;  more 
ornamental  than  useful;  more  volatile  than  solid;  a 
dangerous,  sharp-edged  tool,  often  cutting  its  most 
skillful  master;  rarely  imparting  substantial  benefits 
to  mankind;  but  often  serious  injury. 

Let  your  wit  rather  serve  you  for  a  buckler  to 
defend  yourself,  by  a  handsome  reply,  than  the  sword 
to  wound  others,  though  with  never  so  facetious  a 
reproach,  remembering  that  a  word  cuts  deeper  than 
a  sharper  weapon,  and  the  wound  it  makes  is  longer 


TRUTH. 


357 


curing.  Let  those  who  have  it,  endeavor  to  control  it, 
and  those  who  have  it  not,  can  make  better  use  of  the 
sense  they  have. 


God  is  the  author  of  truth,  the  devil  the  father  of 
lies.  If  the  telling  of  a  truth  shall  endanger  thy  life, 
the  author  of  truth  will  protect  thee  from  the  danger, 
or  reward  thee  for  thy  damage.  If  the  telling  of  a  lie 
may  secure  thy  life,  the  father  of  lies  will  beguile  thee 
of  thy  gains,  or  traduce  the  security.  Better  by  losing 
of  a  life  to  save  it,  than  by  saving  of  a  life  to  lose  it. 
However,  better  thou  perish  than  the  truth. 

Herodotus  tells  us,  in  the  first  book  of  his  history, 
that  from  the  age  of  five  years  to  that  of  twenty,  the 
ancient  Persians  instructed  their  children  only  in  three 
things,  viz.:  to  manage  a  horse,  to  shoot  dexterously 
with  the  bow  and  to  speak  the  truth.  Which  shows  of 
how  much  importance  they  thought  it  to  fix  this 
virtuous  habit  on  the  minds  of  youth  betimes. 

The  smallest  dew  drop  on  the  meadow  at  night  has 
.a  star  sleeping  in  its  bosom,  and  the  most  insignificant 
passage  of  Scripture  has  .in  it  a  shining  truth.  Truth 
bears  the  impress  of  her  own  divinity,  and,  though 
reason  may  not  be  able  to  take  cognizance  of  the  fact, 
she  may  be  filling  the  chambers  of  the  soul  with  a  light 
and  glory  that  is  not  born  of  earth. 


358 


TRUTH. 


The  study  of  truth  is  perpetually  joined  with  the 
love  of  virtue,  for  there's  no  virtue  which  derives  not 
its  original  from  truth,  as,  on  the  contrary,  there  is  no- 
vice which  has  not  its  beginning  from  a  lie.  Truth  is. 
the  foundation  of  all  knowledge  and  the  cement  of  all 
society. 

The  adorer  of  truth  is  aLjve  all  present  things- 
Firm  in  the  midst  of  temptation,  and  frank  in  the  midst 
of  treachery,  he  will  be  attacked  by  those  who  have 
prejudices,  simply  because  he  is  without  them,  decried 
as  a  bad  bargain  by  all  who  want  to  purchase,  because 
he  alone  is  not  to  be  bought,  and  abused  by  all  parties, 
because  he  is  the  advocate  of  none;  like  the  Dolphin^ 
which  is  always  painted  more  crooked  than  a  ram's 
horn,  although  every  naturalist  knows  that  it  is  the 
straightest  fish  that  swims. 

Truth  is  a  standard  according  to  which  all  things  are 
to  be  judged.  When  we  appeal  to  it,  it  should  be  with 
sincerity  of  purpose  and  honesty  of  feeling.  Divesting 
ourselves  of  all  partiality,  passion,  paradox,  and  preju- 
dice— of  every  kind  of  sophistry,  subterfuge,  chicanery,, 
concealment  and  disguise,  and  laying  the  soul  open  to- 
what  is  honest,  right,  and  true,  our  only  desire  should 
be  to  judge  of  things  as  they  really  are,  and  candidly 
and  truly  to  acknowledge  and  receive  them  as  such.. 
For  this  is  truth — the  perception  and  representation  of 
things  as  they  are. 

Truth,  divine  in  its  nature  and  pure  before  heaven,  is 
the  foundation  of  all  human  excellence,  the  keystone  of 
all  sincere  affection,  and  the  seal  of  true  discipleship 
with  the  Good  Shepherd.    It  is  impossible  to  love  one 


TRUTH. 


in  whose  truthfulness  we  cannot  confide;  or  to  slight 
one,  whose  words,  and  purposes,  and  actions,  are  "with- 
out dissimulation. "  Truth,  or  silence,  should  be  our 
alternative;  and  we  should  not  disturb  the  u  soul's  sweet 
complacency,' '  by  addicting  ourselves  to  the  too  fre- 
quent deceptions  of  "good  breeding,"  or  the  "necessary 
subterfuges  of  society."  Good  breeding  needs  not  to 
be  sustained  or  appreciated  through  falsehood  or  affecta- 
tion, and  a  social  system  which  involves  the  practice  of 
subterfuge  is  wrong  in  its  basis  and  corroding  in  its 
tendency.  Into  God's  holy  place — our  hoped-for  future 
home,  and  after  the  ineffable  beauty  of  which  every 
earthly  household,  and  circle,  and  human  heart  should 
be  modeled  —  nothing  can  enter  which  "  loveth  or 
maketh  a  lie." 

No  bad  man  ever  wished  that  his  breast  was  made 
of  glass,  or  that  others  could  read  his  thoughts.  But 
the  misery  is,  that  the  duplicities,  the  temptations,  and 
the  infirmities  that  surround  us  have  rendered  the 
truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth,  as  hazardous  and  con- 
traband a  commodity  as  a  man  can  possibly  deal  in. 
Woe  to  falsehood !  it  affords  no  relief  to  the  breast  like 
truth;  it  gives  us  no  comfort,  pains  him  who  forges  h% 
and  like  an  arrow  directed  by  a  god,  flies  back  and 
wounds  the  archer.  If  a  man  be  sincerely  wedded  to 
truth,  he  must  make  up  his  mind  to  find  her  a  portion- 
less virgin,  and  he  must  take  her  for  herself  alone. 
The  contract,  too,  must  be  to  love,  cherish,  and  obey 
her,  not  only  until  death,  but  beyond  it  :  for  this  is  an 
union  that  must  survive  not  only  death,  but  time,  the 
conqueror  of  death.    There  is  nothing  which  all  man- 


860 


TRUTH. 


kind  venerate  and  admire  so  much  as  simple  truth, 
exempt  from  artifice,  duplicity,  and  design.  It  exhibits 
at  once  a  strength  of  character  and  integrity  of  purpose 
in  which  all  are  willing  to  confide. 

Painters  and  sculptors  have  given  us  many  ideal 
representations  of  moral  and  intellectual  qualities  and 
conceptions,  and  have  presented  us  with  the  tangible 
forms  of  beauty  and  grace,  heroism  and  courage,  and 
many  others.  But  which  one  of  them  will  or  can  give 
us  a  correct  and  faithful  delineation  and  embodiment 
of  truth? — that  we  may  place  it  upon  our  altars  and 
in  our  halls,  in  public  and  in  private  places,  that  it  may 
be  honored  and  worshiped  in  every  home  and  in  every 
heart ! 

We  see  in  an  instant  the  immense  importance  of 
acquiring  and  inculcating  habits  of  the  strictest  truth. 
Whatever  so  essentially  tends  to  the  concord  and 
felicity  of  society,  it  must  be  of  momentous  consequence 
to  cherish  and  promulgate.  No  idea  can  be  formed  of 
the  important  effect  such  habits  would  produce.  The 
most  perfect  confidence  would  not  be  the  least  of  its 
benefits,  and  the  most  perfect  inward  tranquillity.  For 
no  species  of  deception  can  be  practiced  without  causing 
vexation  and  trouble  to  the  practicer,  and  many  a 
cheek  has  blushed,  and  many  a  heart  palpitated  at  the 
apprehended  or  realized  detection  of  mistakes  and 
exaggeration  in  common  conversation.  Exaggeration 
is  but  another  name  for  falsehood;  to  exaggerate  is  to 
pass  the  bounds  of  truth;  and  how  can  those  bounds  be 
passed,  without  entering  upon  the  precincts  of  false- 
hood.   There  can  be  but  a  true  or  a  false  representa- 


TRUTH. 


361 


tion.  There  can  be  no  medium;  what  is  not  true  must 
be  false. 

Of  the  public  estimation  in  which  truth  is  held,  we 
have  numerous  examples.  Every  one  can  enter  into 
the  animating,  the  delightful  emotion  with  which 
Petrarch  must  have  received  the  gratifying  tribute  of 
public  applause,  when,  on  his  appearing  as  witness  in  a 
cause,  and  approaching  the  tribunal  to  take  the  accus- 
tomed oaths,  he  was  informed  that  such  was  the  con- 
fidence of  the  court  in  his  veracity  he  would  not  be 
required  to  take  any  oath,  his  word  was  sufficient. 

Was  not  the  praise  bestowed  on  Petrarch  a  tacit 
avowal  that  veracity  such  as  his  was  very  rarely 
known  ?  Nothing  can  be  more  easy  than  to  speak 
truth;  the  unwise,  the  poor,  the  ignoble,  the  youthful, 
can  all  equally  practice  it.  Nothing  can  be  more  diffi- 
cult than  to  speak  falsely;  the  wise,  the  rich,  the  great, 
the  aged,  have  all  failed  in  their  attempts.  It  would 
be  an  easy  road  to  distinction  to  be  pre-eminent  in  an 
adherence  to  truth.  We  could  enumerate  many 
besides  Petrarch  who  have  acquired  respect  by  it 
among  their  fellow-citizens,  and  celebrity  in  the  page 
of  history.  Can  there  be  offered  a  more  obtainable,  a 
more  gratifying,  a  more  noble  object  of  emulation  to 
the  youthful  heart? 


36? 


JUDGMENT. 


It  is  the  office  of  judgment  to  compare  the  ideas 
received  through  the  senses  with  one  another,  and 
thereby  to  gain  right  conceptions  of  things  and  events. 
Hence  it  by  degrees  forms  for  itself  a  standard  of 
duty  and  propriety,  accumulates  rules  and  maxims 
for  conduct,  and  materials  for  reflection  and  meditation. 

The  judgment  not  only  receives,  investigates,  and 
arranges  the  ideas  presented  to  it,  but  It  also  regulates 
and  directs  the  other  faculties,  where  their  exertions 
may  be  most  beneficial  .and  compensating.  It  also 
restrains  them  from  undue  excursiveness,  and  prevents 
their  wandering  into  unprofitable  and  vicious  efforts. 

The  most  necessary  talent  in  a  man  of  conversation, 
which  is  what  we  ordinarily  intend  by  a  gentleman,  is 
a  good  judgment.  He  that  has  this  in  perfection  is 
master  of  his  companion,  without  letting  him  see  it; 
.and  has  the  same  advantage  over  men  of  any  other 
qualifications  whatsoever,  as  one  that  can  see  would 
have  over  a  blind  man  of  ten  times  his  strength. 

Judgment,  too,  is  abused  in  its  use,  especially  when 
used  to  judge  others.  Knaves  try  to  help  themselves, 
by  pretending  to  help  others.  Great  ingenuity,  indus- 
try, and  perseverance  are  manifested  in  the  modes  of 
attack.  False  sympathy,  flattery,  a  tender  concern  for 
your  interest,  bare-faced  impudence  and  hypocrisy,, 
make  their  attacks  in  front — whilst  slander,  falsehood, 
dark  innuendoes,  and  damning  praise,  assail  the  rear. 
Pliny  says,  that  Julius  Caesar  blamed  so  ingeniously, 


JUDGMENT. 


363 


that  his  censures  were  mistaken  for  praise.  Many,  at 
the  present  day,  praise  only  to  reproach.  As  has  been 
observed  by  an  eminent  writer,  "  They  use  envenomed 
praise,  which,  by  a  side  blow,  exposes,  in  the  person 
they  commend,  such  faults  as  they  dare  not,  in  any 
other  way,  lay  open."  Deeply  is  the  poison  of  calumny 
infused  in  this  way — the  venom  of  a  coward,  and  the 
cunning  of  a  knave  combined. 

He  that  sees  ever  so  accurately,  ever  so  finely  into 
the  motives  of  other  people's  acting,  may  possibly  be 
entirety  ignorant  as  to  his  own:  it  is  by  the  mental  as 
the  corporal  eye,  the  object  may  be  placed  too  near  the 
sight  to  be  seen  truly,  as  well  as  so  far  off;  nay,  too 
near  to  be  seen  at  all. 

A  right  judgment 
Draws  profit  from  all  things  we  see. 

— Shakespeare. 

The  great  misfortune,  arising  from  a  disposition  to 
judge  others,  and  meddle  with  their  affairs,  consists  in 
its  being  void  of  genuine  philanthropy.  Rare  instances 
may  occur  when  a  person  intrudes  himself  upon  another 
for  good  —  but  such  intrusions  are,  "like  angels' visits, 
few  and  far  between."  It  is  of  the  contrary,  and  by 
far  more  numerous  class,  that  we  speak — -men  and 
women,  who  look  at  others  through  a  smoked  glass  — 
that  they  may  avoid  the  brightness  of  the  good  qual- 
ities, and  discover  more  clearly  the  bad  —  who  first 
perform  the  office  of  the  green  fly,  that  other  flies  may 
prey  upon  the  putridity  they  produce  — scavengers  of 
reputation,  who  gather  the  faults,  blemishes,  and  infirm- 


364 


JUDGMENT. 


ities  of  their  neighbors  into  a  Pandora  box — and  there 
pamper  them,  like  a  turtle  for  a  holiday  dinner — until 
they  are  inflated  to  an  enormous  size;  they  are  then 
thrown  into  the  market,  and  astonish  every  beholder. 

Devils  blush,  and  angels  weep  over  such  a  disposition 
as  this.  It  is  a  canker  worm  in  the  body  politic — the 
destroyer  of  reputation;  the  bane  of  peace  in  society; 
the  murderer  of  innocence;  a  foul  blot  upon  human 
nature;  a  curse  in  community,  and  a  disgrace  to  our 
species. 

Its  baleful  influence  is  felt,  its  demoniac  effects  are 
^experienced,  in  all  the  walks  of  life.  In  the  political 
arena — within  the  pale  of  the  church,  and  in  the 
•domestic  circle — its  miasma  is  infused.  The  able 
statesman,  the  profound  jurist,  the  eloquent  advocate, 
the  pulpit  orator,  the  investigating  philosopher,  the 
skillful  physician,  the  judicious  merchant,  the  indus- 
trious mechanic,  the  honest  farmer,  the  day  laborer, 
the  humblest  peasant,  the  child  in  the  nursery — have 
all  experienced  the  scorpion  lashes  of  this  imp  of  Satan. 
Nay,  more — female  character,  basking  in  the  sunshine 
of  innocence,  has  often  been  withered,  blighted,  ruined, 
by  its  chilling  breath. 

Let  each  reader  examine  and  see  if  this  propensity, 
so  deeply  rooted  in  human  nature,  is  exercising  an 
influence  over  his  or  her  mind.  If  so,  banish  it  from 
your  bosom,  as  you  would  a  deadly  viper.  Let  its 
enormity  be  held  up  to  children,  by  parents  and  teach- 
ers, that  they  may  learn  to  dread,  despise,  and  avoid  it. 
Teach  them  charity,  forbearance,  forgiveness,  and  all 
the  virtues  that  adorn  our  race. 


PATIENCE 


365 


Dear  reader,  does  this  propensity  exist  in  your  heart? 
If  so,  banish  it,  for  it  will  do  you  much  harm,  and  in 
time  ruin  your  soul. 

Becoming  Graces 
Are  Justice,  Verity,  Temperance,  Stableness, 
Bounty,  Perseverance,  Mercy,  Lowliness, 
Devotion,  Patience,  Courage,  Fortitude. 


No  man,  in  any  condition  of  life,  can  pass  his  days 
with  tolerable  comfort  without  patience.  It  is  of  uni 
versal  use.  Without  it,  prosperity  will  be  continually 
disturbed,  and  adversity  will  be  clouded  with  double 
darkness.  He  who  is  without  patience  will  be  uneasy 
and  troublesome  to  all  with  whom  he  is  connected,  and 
will  be  more  troublesome  to  himself  than  to  any  other. 
The  loud  complaint,  the  querulous  temper  and  fretful 
spirit,  disgrace  every  character:  we  weaken  thereby 
the  sympathy  of  others,  and  estrange  them  from  offices 
of  kindness  and  comfort.  But  to  maintain  a  steady 
and  unbroken  mind,  amidst  all  the  shocks  of  adversity y 
forms  the  highest  honor  of  man.  Afflictions  supported 
by  patience  and  surmounted  by  fortitude,  give  the  last 
finishing  stroke  to  the  heroic  and  the  virtuous  char- 
acter. Thus  the  vale  of  tears  becomes  the  theatre  of 
human  glory;  that  dark  cloud  presents  the  scene  of  all 
the  beauties  in  the  bow  of  virtue.    Moral  grandeur,, 


366 


PATIENCE. 


like  the  sun,  is  brighter  in  the  day  of  the  storm, 
and  never  is  so  truly  sublime  as  when  straggling 
through  the  darkness  of  an  eclipse. 

Patience  is  the  guardian  of  faith,  the  preserver  of 
peace,  the  cherisher  of  love,  the  teacher  of  humility. 
Patience  governs  the  flesh,  strengthens  the  spirit,  sweet- 
ens the  temper,  stifles  anger,  extinguishes  envy,  subdues 
pride ;  she  bridles  the  tongue,  restrains  the  hand, 
tramples  upon  temptations,  endures  persecutions,  con- 
summates martyrdom. 

Patience  produces  unity  in  the  church,  loyalty  in  the 
state,  harmony  in  families  and  societies;  she  comforts 
the  poor  and  moderates  the  rich;  she  makes  us  humble 
in  prosperity,  cheerful  in  adversity,  unmoved  by  cal- 
umny and  reproach;  she  teaches  us  to  forgive  those 
who  have  injured  us,  and  to  be  the  first  in  asking  the 
forgiveness  of  those  whom  we  have  injured;  she  delights 
the  faithful  and  invites  the  unbelieving;  she  adorns  the 
woman  and  approves  the  man ;  she  is  beautiful  in  either 
sex  and  every  age. 

Behold  her  appearance  and  her  attire!  Her  coun- 
tenance is  calm  and  serene  as  the  face  of  heaven 
unspotted  by  the  shadow  of  a  cloud,  and  no  wrinkle  of 
grief  or  anger  is  seen  in  her  forehead.  Her  eyes  are  as 
the  eyes  of  doves  for  meekness,  and  on  her  eyebrows 
sit  cheerfulness  and  joy.  Her  mouth  is  lovely  in  silence; 
her  complexion  and  color  that  of  innocence  and  security, 
while,  like  the  virgin,  the  daughter  of  Zion;  she  shakes 
her  head  at  the  adversary,  despising  and  laughing  him 
to  scorn.  She  is  clothed  in  the  robes  of  the  martyrs, 
and  in  her  hand  she  holds  a  sceptre  in  the  form  of  a 


PATIENCE.  367 

cross.  She  rides  not  in  the  whirlwind  and  stormy 
tempest  of  passion,  but  her  throne  is  the  humble 
and  contrite  heart,  and  her  kingdom  is  the  kingdom  of 
peace. 

Patience  has  been  defined  as  the  "courage  of  virtue," 
the  principle  that  enables  us  to  lessen  pain  of  mind  or 
body;  an  emotion  that  does  not  so  much  add  to  the 
number  of  our  joys,  as  it  tends  to  diminish  the  number 
of  our  sufferings.  If  life  is  made  to  abound  with  pains 
and  troubles,  by  the  errors  and  the  crimes  of  man,  it  is 
no  small  advantage  to  have  a  faculty  that  enables  us  to 
-soften  these  pains  and  to  ameliorate  these  troubles. 
How  powerful,  and  how  extensive  the  influence  of 
patience  in  performing  this  acceptable  service,  it  is 
impossible  to  judge  but  from  experience ;  those  who 
have  known  most  bodily  pain  can  best  testify  its  power. 
Impatience,  in  fact,  b}7  inducing  restlessness  and  irrita- 
tion, not  only  doubles  every  pang,  and  prolongs  every 
suffering,  but  actually  often  creates  the  trials  to  be 
endured.  In  pains  of  the  body  this  is  the  case,  but 
more  potently  is  it  so  in  all  mental  affliction.  The 
hurry  of  spirits,  the  ineffectual  efforts  for  premature 
relief,  the  agitation  of  undue  expectation,  all  combine 
to  create  a  real  suffering,  in  addition  to  what  is  inflicted 
by  the  cause  of  our  impatience.  How  numberless  are 
the  petty  disasters  effected,  the  trivial  vexations  pro- 
tracted by  this  harrassing  emotion;  the  loss  of  money, 
time,  friends,  reputation,  by  mistaken  earnestness  in 
pursuing  violent  schemes,  in  not  pausing  to  reflect 
before  decision,  in  urging  disagreeable  or  unjust  claims, 
and  in  rushing  into  ill-concerted  plans? 


868  PATIENCE. 

The  most  beneficent  operations  of  nature  are  the 
result  of  patience.  The  waters  slowly  deposit  their 
rich  alluvium;  the  fruits  are  months  in  their  growth 
and  perfecting. 

To  be  wise  we  must  diligently  apply  ourselves,  and 
confront  the  same  continuous  application  which  our 
forefathers  did ;  for  labor  is  still,  and  ever  will  be,  the 
inevitable  price  set  upon  everything  which  is  valuable. 
We  must  be  satisfied  to  work  energetically  with  a  pur- 
pose, and  wait  the  results  with  patience.  Buffon  has 
even  said  of  patience,  that  it  is  genius — the  power  of 
great  men,  in  his  opinion,  consisting  mainly  in  their 
power  of  continuous  working  and  waiting.  All  pro- 
gress, of  the  best  kind,  is  slow;  but  to  him  who  works 
faithfully  and  in  a  right  spirit,  be  sure  that  the  reward 
will  be  vouchsafed  in  its  own  good  time.  1  '♦Courage 
and  industry,"  says  Granville  Sharpe,  "must  have  sunk 
in  despair,  and  the  world  must  have  remained  unim- 
proved and  unornamented,  if  men  had  merely  compared 
the  effect  of  a  single  stroke  of  the  chisel  with  the 
pyramid  to  be  raised,  or  of  a  single  impression  of  the 
spade  with  vhe  mountains  to  be  leveled.'"  We  must 
continuously  apply  ourselves  to  right  pursuits,  and  we 
cannot  fail  to  advance  steadily,  though  it  may  be 
unconsciously. 

Hugh  Miller  modestly  says,  in  his  autobiography: 
"  The  only  merit  to  which  I  lay  claim  is  that  of  patient 
research  —  a  merit  in  which  whoever  wills  may  rival  or 
surpass  me;  and  this  humble  faculty  of  patience,  when 
rightly  developed,  may  lead  to  more  extraordinary 
developments  of  idea  than  even  genius  itself." 


PATIENCE. 


369 


Patience  is  a  good  nag,  says  the  proverb.  Wisely 
and  slow;  they  stumble  that  run  fast.  Always  have  a 
good  stock  of  patience  laid  by,  and  be  sure  you  put  it 
where  you  can  easily  find  it.  Cherish  patience  as  your 
favorite  virtue.  Always  keep  it  about  you.  You  will 
find  use  for  it  oftener  than  for  all  the  rest.  Moderation 
is  the  silken  string  running  through  the  pearl-chain  of 
all  virtue.  He  who  is  impatient  to  become  his  own 
master  is  most  likely  to  become  merely  his  own  slave. 
You  can  do  anything  if  you  will  only  have  patience; 
water  may  be  carried  in  a  sieve,  if  you  can  only  wait 
till  it  freezes.  Those  who  at  the  commencement  of 
their  career  meet  with  less  applause  than  they  deserve, 
not  unfrequently  gain  more  than  they  deserve  at  the 
end  of  it;  though  having  grounds  at  first  to  fear  that 
they  were  born  to  be  starved,  they  often  live  long 
enough  to  die  of  a  surfeit. 

He  hath  made  a  good  progress  in  business  that  hath 
thought  well  of  it  beforehand.  Some  do  first  and  think 
afterwards.  Precipitation  ruins  the  best  laid  designs; 
whereas  patience  ripens  the  most  difficult,  and  renders 
the  execution  of  them  easy.  That  is  done  soon  enough 
which  is  done  well.  Soon  ripe,  soon  rotten.  He  that 
would  enjoy  the  fruit,  must  not  gather  the  flower.  He 
calls  to  patience,  who  is  patience  itself,  and  he  that 
gives  the  precept  enforces  it  by  his  own  example. 
Patience  affords  us  a  shield  to  defend  ourselves,  and 
innocence  denies  us  a  sword  to  defend  others.  Knowl- 
edge is  power,  but  it  is  one  of  the  slowest  because  one 
of  the  most  durable  of  agencies.  Continued  exertion, 
24 


370 


CONTENTMENT. 


and  not  hasty  efforts,  that  lead  to  success.  What  can- 
not be  cured  must  be  endured.  How  poor  are  they 
that  have  not  patience! 


"  Poor  and  content  is  rich,  and  rich  enough ; 
But  riches  endless  is  as  poor  as  winter 
To  him  that  always  fears  he  shall  be  poor." 

Every  man  either  is  rich,  or  may  be  so;  though  not 
all  in  one  and  the  same  wealth.  Some  have  abundance, 
and  rejoice  *n  it;  some  a  competency,  and  are  content; 
some  having  nothing,  have  a  mind  desiring  nothing. 
He  that  hath  most,  wants  something;  he  that  hath 
least,  is  in  something  supplied ;  wherein  the  mind 
which  maketh  rich,  may  well  possess  him  with  the 
thought  of  store.  Who  whistles  out  more  content 
than  the  low-fortuned  plowman,  or  sings  more  merrily 
than  the  abject  cobbler  that  sits  under  the  stall?  Con- 
tent dwells  with  those  that  are  out  of  the  eye  of  the 
world,  whom  she  hath  never  trained  with  her  gauds, 
her  toils,  her  lures.  Wealth  is  like  learning,  wherein 
our  greater  knowledge  is  only  a  larger  sight  of  our 
wants.  Desires  fulfilled,  teach  us  to  desire  more;  so 
we  that  at  first  were  pleased,  by  removing  from  that, 
are  now  grown  insatiable. 

We  knew  a  man  that  had  health  and  riches,  and 


CONTENTMENT. 


371 


several  houses,  all  beautiful  and  ready  furnished,  and 
would  often  trouble  himself  and  family  to  be  removing 
from  one  house  to  another ;  and  being  asked  by  a 
friend  why  he  removed  so  often  from  one  house  to 
another,  replied:  "It  was  to  find  content  in  some  of 
them.'"  But  his  friend,  knowing  his  temper,  told  him, 
"  If  he  would  find  content  in  any  of  his  houses,  he  must 
leave  himself  behind  him;  for  content  will  never  dwell 
but  in  a  meek  and  quiet  soul."  The  inscription  upon 
the  tombstone  of  the  man  who  had  endeavored  to 
mend  a  tolerable  constitution  by  taking  physic,  "  /  was 
well;  I  wished  to  be  better;  here  I  am"  may  generally 
be  applied  with  great  justness  to  the  distress  of  disap- 
pointed avarice  and  ambition. 

We  sometimes  go  musing  along  the  street  to  see  how 
few  people  there  are  whose  faces  look  as  though  any  joy 
had  come  down  and  sung  in  their  souls.  We  can  see 
lines  of  thought,  and  of  care,  and  of  fear — money  lines, 
shrewd,  grasping  lines — but  how  few  happy  lines! 
The  rarest  feeling  that  ever  lights  the  human  face  is 
the  contentment  of  a  loving  soul.  Sit  for  an  hour  on 
the  steps  of  the  Exchange  in  Wall  Street,  and  you  will 
behold  a  drama  which  is  better  than  a  thousand  the- 
atres, for  all  the  actors  are  real.  There  are  a  hundred 
successful  men  where  there  is  one  contented  man.  We 
can  find  a  score  of  handsome  faces  where  we  can  find 
one  happy  face.  An  eccentric  wealthy  gentleman 
stuck  up  a  board  in  a  field  upon  his  estate,  upon  which 
was  painted  the  following:  "I  will  give  this  field  to 
any  man  contented."  He  soon  had  an  applicant. 
"Well,  sir;  are  you  a  contented  man?"    "Yes,  sir; 


372 


CONTENTMENT. 


very."  "Then  what  do  you  want  of  my  field?"  The 
applicant  did  not  stop  to  reply. 

It  is  one  property  which,  they  say,  is  required  of 
those  that  seek  the  philosopher's  stone,  that  they  must 
not  do  it  with  any  covetous  desire  to  be  rich,  for  other- 
wise they  shall  never  find  it.  But  most  true  it  is,  that 
whosoever  would  have  this  jewel  of  contentment,  (which 
turns  all  into  gold,  yea,  want  into  wealth,)  must  come 
with  minds  divested  of  all  ambitious  and  covetous 
thoughts,  else  are  they  never  likely  to  obtain  it.  The 
foundation  of  content  must  spring  up  in  a  man's  own 
mind;  and  he  who  has  so  little  knowledge  of  human 
nature  as  to  seek  happiness  by  changing  anything  but 
his  own  disposition,  will  waste  his  life  in  fruitless 
efforts,  and  multiply  the  griefs  which  he  purposes  to 
remove.  No  man  can  tell  whether  he  is  rich  or  poor 
by  turning  to  his  ledger.  It  is  the  heart  that  makes  a 
man  rich.  He  is  rich  or  poor  according  to  what  he  ts1 
not  according  to  what  he  has. 

It  conduces  much  to  our  content  if  we  pass  by  those 
things  which  happen  to  trouble,  and  consider  what  is 
pleasing  and  prosperous,  that  by  the  representations  of 
the  better  the  worse  may  be  blotted  out.  If  I  be  over- 
thrown in  my  suit  at  law,  yet  my  house  is  left  me  still, 
and  my  land,  or  I  have  a  virtuous  wife,  or  hopeful 
children,  or  kind  friends,  or  hopes.  If  I  have  lost  one 
child,  it  may  be  I  have  two  or  three  still  left  me. 
Enjoy  the  present,  whatever  it  may  be,  and  be  not 
solicitous  for  the  future;  for  if  you  take  your  foot  from 
the  present  standing,  and  thrust  it  forward  to  to- 
morrow's event,  you  are  in  a  restless  condition;  it  is 


CONTENTMENT. 


373 


like  refusing  to  quench  your  present  thirst  by  fearing 
you  will  want  to  drink  the  next  day.  If  to-morrow 
you  should  want,  your  sorrow  would  come  time 
enough,  though  you  do  not  hasten  it;  let  your  trouble 
tarry  till  its  own  day  comes.  Enjoy  the  blessings  of 
this  day,  if  God  sends  them,  and  the  evils  of  it  bear 
patiently  and  sweetly,  for  this  day  is  ours.  We  are 
dead  to  yesterday,  and  not  yet  born  to  to-morrow.  A 
contented  mind  is  the  greatest  blessing  a  man  can 
enjoy  in  this  world;  and  if  in  the  present  life  his  happi- 
ness arises  from  the  subduing  of  his  desires,  it  will 
arise  in  the  next  from  the  gratification  of  them. 

Contentment  is  felicity.  Few  are  the  real  wants  of 
man.  Like  a  majority  of  his  troubles,  they  are  more 
imaginary  than  real.  Some  well  persons  want  to  be 
better,  take  medicine,  and  become  sick  in  good  earnest; 
perhaps  die  under  some  patented  nostrum.  Some  per- 
sons have  wealth — they  want  more — enter  into  some 
new  business  they  do  not  understand,  or  some  wild 
speculation,  and  become  poor  indeed.  Many  who  are 
.surrounded  by  all  the  substantial  comforts  of  life,  be- 
come discontented  because  some  wealthier  neighbor 
sports  a  carriage,  and  his  lady  a  Brussels  carpet  and 
mahogany  chairs,  entertains  parties,  and  makes  more 
show  in  the  world  than  they.  Like  the  monkey,  they 
attempt  to  imitate  all  they  see  that  is  deemed  fashion- 
able; make  a  dash  at  greater  contentment;  dash  out 
their  comfortable  store  of  wealth;  and  sometimes, 
'determined  on  quiet  at  least,  close  the  farce  with  a 
tragedy,  and  dash  their  brains  out  with  a  blue  pill. 
Discontented  persons  live  in  open  rebellion  against 


374 


CONTENTMENT.  H 


their  great  Benefactor,  and  virtually  claim  wisdom r 
more  than  infinite.  They  covet,  they  wish,  and  wishes 
are  as  prolific  as  rabbits.  One  imaginary  want,  like  a 
stool  pigeon,  brings  flocks  of  others,  and  the  mind 
becomes  so  overwhelmed,  that  it  loses  sight  of  all 
the  real  comforts  in  possession. 

Contentment  consisteth  not  in  adding  more  fuel,  but 
in  taking  away  some  fire;  not  in  multiplying  wealthy 
but  in  subtracting  men's  desires.  Worldly  riches,  like 
nuts,  tear  men's  clothing  in  getting  them,  spoil  men's, 
teeth  in  cracking  them,  but  fill  no  belly  in  eating  them. 
When  Alexander  saw  Diogenes  sitting  in  the  warm 
sun,  and  asked  what  he  should  do  for  him?  he  desired 
no  more  than  that  Alexander  would  stand  out  of  his 
sunshine,  and  not  take  from  him  what  he  could  not 
give.  A  quiet  and  contented  mind  is  the  supreme 
good;  it  is  the  utmost  felicity  a  man  is  capable  of  in 
this  world:  and  the  maintaining  of  such  an  uninter- 
rupted tranquility  of  spirit  is  the  very  crown  and 
glory  of  wisdom. 

Nature  teaches  us  to  live,  but  wisdom  teaches  us  to 
live  contented.  Contentment  is  opposed  to  fortune 
and  opinion — it  is  the  wealth  of  nature,  for  it  gives 
everything  we  either  want  or  need  The  discontents 
of  the  poor  are  much  easier  allayed  than  those  of  the 
rich.  Solon  being  asked  by  Croesus,  who  in  the  world 
was  happier  than  himself,  answered,  Tellus;  who, 
though  he  was  poor,  was  a  good  man,  and  content 
with  what  he  had,  and  died  in  a  good  old  age.  No 
line  holds  the  anchor  of  contentment  so  fast  as  a  good 
conscience.    This  cable  is  so  strong,  and  compact,  that 


CONTENTMENT. 


375 


when  force  is  offered  to  it,  the  straining  rather  strength- 
ens, by  uniting  the  parts  more  closely. 

Those  who  are  contented  with  a  little  deserve  much; 
and  those  who  deserve  much  are  far  the  more  likely 
persons  to  be  contented  with  a  little.  Contentment  is 
oftener  made  of  cheap  materials  than  of  dear  ones. 
What  a  glorious  world  this  would  be,  if  all  its  inhab- 
itants could  say  with  Shakespeare's  shepherd:  "Sir,  I 
am  a  true  laborer,  I  earn  that  I  wear;  owe  no  man 
hate;  envy  no  man's  happiness;  glad  of  other  men's 
good,  contented  with  my  farm."  Half  the  discontent 
in  the  world  arises  from  men  regarding  themselves  as 
centers,  instead  of  the  infinitesimal  segments,  of  circles. 
Be  contented  with  enough;  you  may  butter  your  bread 
until  you  are  unable  to  eat  it.  Enough  is  as  good  as 
a  feast.  When  you  feel  dissatisfied  with  your  circum- 
stances, look  at  those  beneath  you.  There  are  minds, 
said  John  Quincy  Adams,  which  can  be  pleased  by 
honors  and  preferments,  and  I  can  see  nothing  in  them 
save  envy  and  enmity.  It  is  only  necessary  to  possess 
them  to  know  how  little  they  contribute  to  happiness. 
I  had  rather  be  shut  up  in  a  very  modest  cottage,  with 
my  books,  my  family,  and  a  few  old  friends,  dining 
upon  simple  bacon  and  hominy  and  letting  the  world 
roll  on  as  it  likes,  than  to  occupy  the  most  high  places 
which  human  power  can  give. 


376 


CHEERFULNESS. 


God  bless  the  cheerful  person — man,  woman  or 
child,  old  or  young,  illiterate  or  educated,  handsome 
or  homely.  Over  and  above  every  other  social  trait 
stands  cheerfulness.  What  the  sun  is  to  nature,  what 
the  stars  are  to  night,  what  God  is  to  the  stricken 
heart  which  knows  how  to  lean  upon  Him,  are  cheer- 
ful persons  in  the  house  and  by  the  wayside.  Man 
recognizes  the  magic  of  a  cheerful  influence  in  woman 
more  quickly  and  more  willingly  than  the  potency  of 
dazzling  genius,  of  commanding  worth,  or  even  of 
enslaving  beauty. 

If  we  are  cheerful  and  contented,  all  nature  smiles 
with  us ;  the  air  seems  more  balmy,  the  sky  more  clear, 
the  ground  has  a  brighter  green,  the  trees  have  a  richer 
foliage,  the  flowers  a  more  fragrant  smell,  the  birds 
sing  more  sweetly,  and  the  sun,  moon  and  stars  all 
appear  more  beautiful. 

Cheerfulness !  How  sweet  in  infancy,  how  lovely  in 
youth,  how  saintly  in  age !  There  are  a  few  noble 
natures  whose  very  presence  carries  sunshine  with 
them  wherever  they  go;  a  sunshine  which  means  pity 
for  the  poor,  sympathy  for  the  suffering,  help  for  the 
unfortunate,  and  benignity  toward  all.  How  such  a 
face  enlivens  every  other  face  it  meets,  and  carries 
into  ever}^  company  vivacity  and  joy  and  gladness! 
But  the  scowl  and  frown,  begotten  in  a  selfish  heart, 
and  manifesting  itself  in  daily,  almost  hourly  fretful- 
ness,  complaining,  fault-finding,  angry  criticisms,  spite- 


CHEERFULNESS. 


377 


ful  comments  on  the  motives  and  actions  of  others, 
how  they  thin  the  cheek,  shrivel  the  face,  sour  and 
sadden  the  countenance!  No  joy  in  the  heart,  no 
nobility  in  the  soul,  no  generosity  in  the  nature;  the 
whole  character  as  cold  as  an  iceberg,  as  hard  as 
Alpine  rock,  as  arid  as  the  wastes  of  Sahara!  Reader, 
which  of  these  countenances  are  you  cultivating?  If 
you  find  yourself  losing  all  your  confidence  in  humar 
nature,  you  are  nearing  an  old  age  of  vinegar,  of 
wormwood  and  of  gall;  and  not  a  mourner  will  follow 
your  solitary  bier,  not  one  tear-drop  shall  ever  fall  on 
3^our  forgotten  grave. 

Look  at  the  bright  side.  Keep  the  sunshine  of  a 
living  faith  in  the  heart.  Do  not  let  the  shadow  of 
discouragement  and  despondency  fall  on  your  path. 
However  weary  you  may  be,  the  promises  of  God 
will  never  cease  to  shine,  like  the  stars  at  night,  to 
cheer  and  strengthen.  Learn  to  wait  as  well  as  labor. 
The  best  harvests  are  the  longest  in  ripening.  It  is 
not  pleasant  to  work  in  the  earth  plucking  the  ugly 
tares  and  weeds,  but  it  is  as  necessary  as  sowing  the 
seed.  The  harder  the  task,  the  more  need  of  singing. 
A  hopeful  spirit  will  discern  the  silver  lining  of  the 
darkest  cloud,  for  back  of  all  planning  and  doing,  with 
its  attendant  discouragements  and  hindrances,  shines 
the  light  of  Divine  promise  and  help.  Ye  are  God's 
husbandmen.  It  is  for  you  to  be  faithful.  He  gives 
the  increase.  , 

Be  cheerful,  for  it  is  the  only  happy  life.  The  times 
may  be  hard,  but  it  will  make  them  no  easier  to  wear 
2,  gloomy  and  sad  countenance.    It  is  the  sunshine  and 


378 


CHEERFULNESS. 


not  the  cloud  that  makes  the  flower.  There  is  always- 
that  before  or  around  us  which  should  fill  the  heart 
with  warmth.  The  sky  is  blue  ten  times  where  it  is 
black  once.  You  have  troubles,  it  may  be.  So  have 
others.  None  are  free  from  them.  Perhaps  it  is  as 
well  that  none  should  be.  They  give  sinew  and  tone 
to  life — fortitude  and  courage  to  man.  That  would 
be  a  dull  sea,  and  the  sailor  would  never  get  skill, 
where  there  was  nothing  to  disturb  the  surface  of  the 
ocean.  It  is  the  duty  of  every  one  to  extract  all  the 
happiness  and  enjoyment  he  can  without  and  within 
him,  and,  above  all,  he  should  look  on  the  bright  side 
of  things.  What  though  things  do  look  a  little  dark? 
The  lane  will  turn,  and  the  night  will  end  in  broad 
day.  In  the  long  run,  the  great  balance  rights  itself. 
What  is  ill  becomes  well;  what  is  wrong  becomes 
right.  Men  are  not  made  to  hang  down  either  heads 
or  lips;  and  those  who  do,  only  show  that  they  are 
departing  from  the  paths  of  true  common  sense  and 
right.  There  is  more  virtue  in  one  sunbeam  than  a 
whole  hemisphere  of  cloud  and  gloom.  Therefore* 
we  repeat,  look  on  the  bright  side  of  things.  Culti 
vate  what  is  warm  and  genial — not  the  cold  and  repul* 
sive,  the  dark  and  morose.  Don't  neglect  your  duty: 
live  down  prejudice. 

We  always  know  the  cheerful  man  by  his  hearty 
"good  morning."  As  well  might  fog,  and  cloud,  and 
vapor  hope  to  cling  to  the  sun-illumined  landscape,  as 
the  blues  and  moroseness  to  remain  in  any  countenance 
when  the  cheerful  one  comes  with  a  hearty  "good 
morning."    Dear  reader,  don't  forget  to  say  it.  Say 


CHEERFULNESS. 


379 


it  to  your  parents,  your  brothers  and  sisters,  your 
schoolmates,  your  teachers — and  say  it  cheerfully  and 
with  a  smile;  it  will  do  you  good,  and  do  your  friends 
good.  There's  a  kind  of  inspiration  in  every  "good 
morning,1 '  heartily  and  smilingly  spoken,  that  helps  to 
make  hope  fresher  and  work  lighter.  It  seems  really 
to  make  the  morning  good,  and  a  prophecy  of  a  good 
day  to  come  after  it.  And  if  this  be  true  of  the  "good 
morning,"  it  is  also  of  all  kind,  cheerful  greetings;  they 
cheer  the  discouraged,  rest  the  tired  one,  and  somehow 
make  the  wheels  of  time  run  more  smoothly.  Be  lib- 
eral then,  and  let  no  morning  pass,  however  dark  and 
gloomy  it  may  be,  that  you  do  not  help  at  least  to 
brighten  it  by  your  smiles  and  cheerful  words. 

The  cheerful  are  the  busy;  when  trouble  knocks  at 
your  door  or  rings  the  bell,  he  will  generally  retire  if 
you  send  him  word  "engaged."  And  a  busy  life  can- 
not well  be  otherwise  than  cheerful.  Frogs  do  not 
croak  in  running  water.  And  active  minds  are  seldom 
troubled  with  gloomy  forebodings.  They  come  up 
only  from  the  stagnant  depths  of  a  spirit  unstirred  by 
generous  impulses  or  the  blessed  necessities  of  honest 
toil. 

What  shall  we  say  by  way  of  commending  that  sweet 
cheerfulness  by  which  a  good  and  sensible  woman 
diffuses  the  oil  of  gladness  in  the  proper  sphere  of 
home.  The  best  specimens  of  heroism  in  the  world 
were  never  gazetted.  They  play  their  role  in  common 
life,  and  their  reward  is  not  in  the  admiration  of  spec- 
tators, but  in  the  deep  joy  of  their  own  conscious 
thoughts.    It  is  easy  for  a  housewife  to  make  arrange- 


380 


CHEEUFU LNE8S, 


ments  for  an  occasional  feast;  but  let  me  tell  you  what 
is  greater  and  better:  amid  the  weariness  and  cares  of 
life;  the  troubles,  real  and  imaginary,  of  a  family;  the 
many  thoughts  and  toils  which  are  requisite  to  make 
the  family  home  of  thrift,  order  and  comfort ;  the 
varieties  of  temper  and  cross-lines  of  taste  and  inclina- 
tion which  are  to  be  found  in  a  large  household — to 
maintain  a  heart  full  of  good  nature  and  a  face  always 
bright  with  cheerfulness,  this  is  a  perpetual  festivity. 
We  do  not  mean  a  mere  superficial  simper,  which  has 
no  more  character  in  it  than  the  flow  of  a  brook,  but 
that  exhaustless  patience,  and  self-control,  and  kindness, 
and  tact  which  spring  from  good  sense  and  brave  pur- 
poses. Neither  is  it  the  mere  reflection  of  prosperity, 
for  cheerfulness,  then,  is  no  virtue.  Its  best  exhibition 
is  in  the  dark  back-ground  of  real  adversity.  Affairs 
assume  a  gloomy  aspect,  poverty  is  hovering  about  the 
door,  sickness  has  already  entered,  days  of  hardship 
and  nights  of  watching  go  slowly  by,  and  now  you  see 
the  triumph  of  which  we  speak.  When  the  strong 
man  has  bowed  himself,  and  his  brow  is  knit  and 
creased,  you  will  see  how  the  whole  life  of  the  house- 
hold seems  to  hang  on  the  frailer  form,  which,  with 
solicitudes  of  her  own,  passing,  it  may  be,  under  "the 
sacred  primal  sorrow  of  her  sex,"  has  an  eye  and  an 
ear  for  every  one  but  herself,  suggestive  of  expedients, 
hopeful  in  extremities,  helpful  in  kind  words  and  affec- 
tionate smiles,  morning,  noon  and  night,  the  medicine, 
the  light,  the  heart  of  a  whole  household.  God  bless 
that  bright,  sunny  face!  says  many  a  reader,  as  he 


CHEERFULNESS. 


381 


recalls  that  one  of  mother,  wife,  sister,  daughter,  which 
has  been  to  him  all  that  my  words  have  described. 

The  industrious  bee  stops  not  to  complain  that  there 
are  so  many  poisonous  flowers  and  thorny  branches  in 
his  road,  but  buzzes  on,  selecting  the  honey  where  he 
can  find  it,  and  passing  quietly  by  the  places  where  it 
is  not.  There  is  enough  in  this  world  to  complain 
about  and  find  fault  with,  if  men  have  the  disposition. 
We  often  travel  on  a  hard  and  uneven  road,  but  with  a 
cheerful  spirit  and  a  heart  to  praise  God  for  his  mercies, 
we  may  walk  therein  with  great  comfort  and  come  to 
the  end  of  our  journey  in  peace. 

Let  us  try  to  be  like  the  sunshiny  member  of  the 
family,  who  has  the  inestimable  art  to  make  all  duty 
seem  pleasant,  all  self-denial  and  exertion  easy  and 
desirable,  even  disappointment  not  so  blank  and  crush- 
ing ;  who  is  like  a  bracing,  crisp,  frosty  atmosphere 
throughout  the  home,  without  a  suspicion  of  the 
element  that  chills  and  pinches.  You  have  known 
people  within  whose  influence  you  felt  cheerful,  ami- 
able, and  hopeful,  equal  to  anything !  Oh !  for  that 
blessed  power,  and  for  God's  grace  to  exercise  it 
rightly!  I  do  not  know  a  more  enviable  gift  than  the 
energy  to  sway  others  to  good;  to  diffuse  around  us  an 
atmosphere  of  cheerfulness,  piety,  truthfulness,  gene- 
rosity, magnanimity.  It  is  not  a  matter  of  great  talent ; 
not  entirely  a  matter  of  great  energy;  but  rather  of 
earnestness  and  honesty,  and  of  that  quiet,  constant 
energy  which  is  like  soft  rain  gently  penetrating  the 
soil.  It  is  rather  a  grace  than  a  gift;  and  we  all  know 
where  all  grace  is  to  be  had  freely  for  the  asking. 


382 


HAPPINESS. 


Writers  of  every  age  have  endeavored  to  show 
that  pleasure  is  in  us  and  not  in  the  object  offered  for 
our  amusement.  If  the  soul  be  happily  disposed,  every- 
thing becomes  capable  of  affording  entertainment,  and 
distress  will  almost  want  a  name. 

The  fountain  of  content  must  spring  up  in  the  mind, 
and  he  who  seeks  happiness  by  changing  anything  but 
his  own  disposition,  will  waste  his  life  in  fruitless  efforts 
and  multiply  the  griefs  which  he  purposes  to  remove. 

Man  is,  in  all  respects,  constituted  to  be  happy. 
Hence  it  is  that  he  sees  goodness  around  him  in  propor- 
tion to  the  goodness  that  is  within  him;  and  it  is  also 
for  this  reason  that  when  he  calls  the  evil  that  is  within 
him  outside  of  him  it  also  appears  so.  If  man,  there- 
fore, chooses  that  which  does  not  seem  to  him  good,  he 
can,  in  a  measure,  enjoy  it.  One  of  the  most  evident 
differences  between  the  enjoyment  of  what  is  good  and 
true  and  that  which  is  false  and  evil,  is  that  the  first 
leaves  something  to  be  re-enjoyed  in  memory  and  after 
life,  while  the  latter  leaves  regret,  disappointment  and 
suffering. 

Great  part  of  the  infelicity  of  men  arises  not  so  much 
from  their  situations  or  circumstances  as  from  their 
pride,  vanity  and  ambitious  expectations.  In  order  to 
be  happy,  these  dispositions  must  be  subdued;  we  must 
always  keep  before  our  eyes  such  views  of  the  world  as 
shall  prevent .  our  expecting  more  from  it  than  it  is 
designed  to  afford.    We  destroy  our  joys  by  devouring 


HAPPINESS. 


38S 


them  beforehand  with  too  eager  expectation.  We  ruin 
the  happiness  of  life  when  we  attempt  to  raise  it  too 
high.  Menedemus  being  told  one  day  that  ft  was  a 
great  felicity  to  have  whatever  we  desire,  "  Yes, 1 '  said 
he,  ubut  it  is  a  much  greater  to  desire  nothing  but  what 
*we  have." 

The  idea  has  been  transmitted  from  generation  to 
generation  that  happiness  is  one  large  and  beautiful 
precious  stone — a  single  gem,  so  rare  that  all  search 
after  it  is  all  vain  effort,  for  it  is  fruitless  and  hopeless. 
It  is  not  so.  Happiness  is  a  mosaic,  composed  of  many 
smaller  stones.  Each  taken  apart  and  viewed  singly 
may  be  of  little  value,  but  when  all  are  grouped 
together  and  judiciously  combined  and  set,  they  form  a 
pleasing  and  graceful  whole,  a  costly  jewel. 

Trample  not  under  foot  then  the  little  pleasures 
which  a  gracious  Providence  scatters  in  the  daily  path 
while  in  eager  search  after  some  great  and  exciting  joy. 
We  are  so  apt  to  overlook  little  things  and  our  own 
mind,  and  look  for  happiness  in  large  external  matter; 
but  we  find  it  not. 

If  you  go  to  the  creature  to  make  you  happy,  the 
earth  will  tell  you  that  happiness  grows  not  in  the  fur- 
rows of  the  fields;  the  sea  that  it  is  not  in  the  treasures 
of  the  deep;  cattle  will  say,  "It  is  not  on  our  backs 
crowns  will  say,  "It  is  too  precious  a  gem  to  be  found 
in  us."  We  can  adorn  the  head,  but  we  cannot  satisfy 
the  heart.    Happiness  is  in  us,  not  in  things. 

If  happiness  consisted  in  things  only,  there  would  be 
no  end  to  the  numberless  kinds  of  it.  It  was  in  this 
point  of  view  that  the  erudite  Roman  writer,  Varro, 


384 


enumerated  seven  hundred  sorts  of  happiness.  So? 
also,  the  learned  Turkish  doctor,  Ebn  Abbas,  main- 
tained that  the  number  of  grievous  sins  is  about  seven 
hundred,  thus  balancing  the  accounts  between  good 
and  ill. 

We  talk  of  wealth,  fame  and  power  as  undeniable 
sources  of  enjoyment,  and  limited  fortune,  obscurity 
and  insignificance  as  incompatible  with  felicity.  It  is 
thus  that  there  is  a  remarkable  distinction  between 
acquisitions  and  conditions,  theoretically  considered, 
and  practically  proved.  However  brilliant  in  specula- 
tion, wealth,  fame  and  power,  are  found  in  possession 
impotent  to  confer  felicity.  However  decried  in  pros- 
pect, limited  fortunes,  obscurity,  insignificance,  are  by 
experience  proved  most  friendly  to  human  happiness. 
Le  Droz,  who  wrote  a  treaty  upon  happiness,  describes 
the  conditions  necessary  for  it,  as  consisting  of  the 
greatest  fortitude  to  resist  and  endure  the  ills  and  pains 
of  life,  united  with  the  keenest  sensibility  to  enjoy  its 
pleasures  and  delights. 

"Health,  peace  and  competence,"  is  a  popular  defini- 
tion of  happiness.  Yet  thousands,  and  tens  of  thousands, 
possess  these  great  blessings  and  are  not  happy,  nay, 
will  not  allow  that  they  have  the  means  to  be  happy. 
Madame  de  Stael,  in  her  "Delphine,"  defines  happiness 
to  consist  in  the  absence  of  misery.  How  many  human 
beings  are  without  one  single  real  evil,  and  yet  com- 
plain of  their  fate. 

There  is  so  little  real  happiness  on  earth  because  we 
seek  it  not  aright — we  seek  it  where  it  is  not,  in  out- 
ward circumstance  and  external  good,  and  neglect  to 


GRATITUDE. 


385 


seek  it,  where  alone  it  dwells,  in  the  close  chambers  of 
the  bosom.  We  would  have  a  happiness  in  time, 
independent  of  eternity;  we  would  have  it  independent 
of  the  Being  whose  it  is  to  give;  and  so  we  go  forth, 
each  one  as  best  we  may,  to  seek  out  the  rich  posses- 
sion for  ourselves.  But  disappointment  attends  every 
step  in  the  pursuit  of  happiness,  until  we  seek  it  where 
alone  it  can  be  found.  The  original  curse  is  still  resting 
upon  us.  The  cherubim,  with  their  flaming  swords, 
still  guard  the  gates  of  Paradise,  and  no  man  enters 
therein. 

"  But  foolish  mortals  still  pursue 
False  happiness  in  place  of  true ; 
A  happiness  we  toil  to  find, 
Which  still  pursues  us  like  the  wind." 


Although  the  word  gratitude,  like  the  word  trin- 
ity, is  not  to  be  found  in  the  Bible,  yet  as  the  sacred 
Scriptures  contain  many  sentiments  on  each  of  these 
subjects,  and  these  words  are  the  most  comprehensive 
to  convey  the  ideas,  they  are  well  adapted.  To  deliver 
our  thoughts  in  few  words  on  gratitude,  we  apprehend 
it  includes  five  things:  first,  a  deep  and  lively  sense  of 
benefits  received ;  secondly,  an  ardent  love  to  and 
complacency  in  the  benefactor;  thirdly,  an  immediate 
beginning  to  make  all  possible  returns  to  the  donor, 
25 


386 


GRATITUDE. 


either  in  repaying  or  else  expressing  our  thankfulness; 
fourthly,  in  a  fixed  purpose  of  heart  to  make  better 
returns,  if  ever  in  our  power;  and  fifthly,  a  determined 
resolution  to  retain  gratitude  for  the  benefit  or  favors 
to  the  end  of  life. 

Gratitude  is  justly  said  to  be  the  mother  of  most 
virtues,  because  that  from  this  one  fountain  so  many 
rivulets  arise;  as  that  of  reverence  unto  parents  and 
masters,  friendship,  love  to  our  country,  and  obedience 
to  God.  The  ungrateful  are  everywhere  hated,  being 
under  a  suspicion  of  every  vice;  but,  on  the  contrary, 
grateful  persons  are  in  the  estimation  of  all  men,  hav- 
ing by  their  gratitude  put  in  a  kind  of  security  that 
they  are  not  without  a  measure  of  every  other  virtue. 

Gratitude  is  a  painful  pleasure,  felt  and  expressed  by 
none  but  noble  souls.  Such  are  pained,  because  mis* 
fortune  places  them  under  the  stern  necessity  of  receiv- 
ing favors  from  the  benevolent,  who  are,  as  the  world 
would  say,  under  no  obligations  to  bestow  them — free- 
will offerings,  made  by  generous  hearts,  to  smooth  the 
rough  path,  and  wipe  away  the  tears  of  a  fellow  being. 
They  derive  a  pleasure  from  the  enjoyment  of  the 
benefits  bestowed,  which  is  rendered  more  exquisite  by 
the  reflection  that  there  are  those  in  the  world  who 
can  feel  and  appreciate  the  woes  of  others,  and  lend  a 
willing  hand  to  help  them  out  of  the  ditch;  those  who 
are  not  wrapped  up  in  the  cocoon  of  selfish  avarice, 
who  live  only  for  themselves,  and  die  for  the  devil. 
This  pleasure  is  farther  refined  by  a  knowledge  of  the 
happiness  enjoyed  by  the  person  whose  benevolence 
dictated  the  relief  in  the  contemplation  of  a  duty  per- 


GRATITUDE. 


387 


formed,  imposed  by  angelic  philanthropy,  guided  by 
motives  pure  as  heaven.  The  worthy  recipient  feels 
deeply  the  obligations  under  which  he  is  placed;  no 
time  can  obliterate  them  from  his  memory,  no  statute 
of  limitation  bars  the  payment;  the  moment,  means 
and  opportunity  are  within  his  power,  the  debt  is  joy- 
fully liquidated,  and  this  very  act  gives  a  fresh  vigor 
to  his  long-cherished  gratitude. 

A  very  poor  and  aged  man,  busied  in  planting  and 
grafting  an  apple  tree,  was  rudely  interrupted  by  this 
interrogation:  "Why  do  you  plant  trees,  who  cannot 
hope  to  eat  the  fruit  of  them?"  He  raised  himself  up^ 
and  leaning  upon  his  spade,  replied:  "Some  one  planted 
trees  for  me  before  I  was  born,  and  I  have  eaten  the 
fruit;  I  now  plant  for  others,  that  the  memorial  of  my 
gratitude  may  exist  when  I  am  dead  and  gone."  It  is 
a  species  of  agreeable  servitude  to  be  under  an  obliga- 
tion to  those  we  esteem.  Ingratitude  is  a  crime  so 
shameful  that  the  man  has  not  yet  been  found  who 
would  acknowledge  himself  guilty  of  it. 

Nothing  tenders  the  heart,  and  opens  the  gushing 
fountain  of  love,  more  than  the  exercise  of  gratitude. 
Like  the  showers  of  spring,  that  cause  flowers  to  rise 
from  seeds  that  have  long  lain  dormant,  tears  of  grati- 
tude awaken  pleasurable  sensations,  unknown  to  those 
who  have  never  been  forced  from  the  sunshine  of  pros- 
perity into  the  cold  shade  of  adversity,  where  no 
warmth  is  felt  but  that  of  benevolence ;  no  light 
enjoyed  but  that  of  charity ;  unless  it  shall  be  the 
warmth  and  light  communicated  from  Heaven  to  the 
sincerely  pious,  who  alone  are  prepared  to  meet,  with 


388 


HOPE. 


calm  submission,  the  keen  and  chilling  winds  of  mis- 
fortune, and  who,  above  all  others,  exercise  the  virtue 
of  gratitude,  in  the  full  perfection  of  its  native  beauty. 

The  poet  Hesiod  tells  us  that  the  miseries  of  all 
mankind  were  included  in  a  great  box,  and  that 
Pandora  took  off  the  lid  of  it,  by  which  means  all 
of  them  came  abroad,  and  only  hope  remained  at 
the  bottom.  Hope,  then,  is  the  principal  antidote 
which  keeps  our  heart  from  bursting  under  the  pres- 
sure of  evils,  and  is  that  flattering  mirror  that  gives 
us  a  prospect  of  some  greater  good.  Some  call  hope 
the  manna  from  heaven,  that  comforts  us  in  all  extrem- 
ities; others,  the  pleasant  flatterer  that  caresses  the 
unhappy  with  expectations  of  happiness  in  the  bosom 
of  futurity.  When  all  other  things  fail  us,  hope  stands 
by  us  to  the  last.  This,  as  it  were,  gives  freedom  to 
the  captive  when  chained  to  the  oar,  health  to  the  sick, 
victory  to  the  defeated,  and  wealth  to  the  beggar. 

True  hope  ,  is  based  on  energy  of  character.  A 
strong  mind  always  hopes,  and  has  always  cause  to 
hope,  because  it  knows  the  mutability  of  human  affairs, 
and  how  slight  a  circumstance  may  change  the  whole 
course  of  events.  Such  a  spirit,  too,  rests  upon  itself; 
it  is  not  confined  to  partial  views,  or  to  one  particular 
object.    And  if,  at  last,  all  should  be  lost,  it  has  saved 


HOPE. 


Itself — its  own  integrity  and  worth.  Hope  awakens 
courage,  while  despondency  is  the  last  of  all  evils;  it 
is  the  abandonment  of  good — the  giving  up  of  the 
battle  of  life  with  dead  nothingness.  He  who  can  im- 
plant  courage  in  the  human  soul  is  the  best  physician. 

Earthly  hope,  like  fear,  is  confined  to  this  dim  spot, 
on  which  we  live,  move,  and  have  our  being.  It  is 
excluded  from  heaven  and  hell.  It  is  a  dashing  blade, 
with  a  great  estate  in  expectancy,  which,  when  put  in 
its  possession,  produces  instant  death.  It  draws  large 
drafts  on  experience,  payable  in  futuro,  and  is  seldom 
able  to  liquidate  them.  Hope  is  always  buoyant,  and, 
like  old  Virginia,  never  tires.  It  answers  well  for 
breakfast,  but  makes  a  bad  supper.  Like  a  balloonr 
we  know  where  it  starts  from,  but  can  make  no  calcu- 
lation when,  where,  and  how,  it  will  land  us.  Hope 
is  a  great  calculator,  but  a  bad  mathematician.  Its 
problems  are  seldom  based  on  true  data — their  demon- 
stration is  oftener  fictitious  than  otherwise.  Without 
the  baseness  of  some  modern  land  speculators,  it  builds 
cities  and  towns  on  paper,  that  are  as  worthless  as  their 
mountain  peaks  and  impassable  quagmires.  It  sus- 
pends earth  in  the  air,  and  plays  with  bubbles,  like  a 
child,  with  his  tube  and  soap  suds.  As  with  Milo,  who 
attempted  to  split  an  oak,  and  was  caught  in  the  split 
and  killed;  the  wedge  often  flies  out,  and  the  operator 
is  caught  in  a  split  stick.  It  is  bold  as  Caesar,  and  ever 
ready  to  attempt  great  feats,  if  it  should  be  to  storm 
the  castle  of  despair. 

When  all  other  emotions  are  controlled  by  events, 
hope  alone  remains  forever  buoyant  and  undecayed, 


390 


HOPE. 


under  the  most  adverse  circumstances,  "unchanged,, 
unchangeable."  Causes  that  affect  with  depression 
every  other  emotion,  appear  to  give  fresh  elasticity 
to  hope.  No  oppression  can  crush  its  buoyancy;  from 
under  every  weight  it  rebounds ;  amid  the  most  depress- 
ing circumstances,  it  preserves  its  cheering  influence; 
no  disappointments  can  annihilate  its  power,  no  expe- 
rience can  deter  us  from  listening  to  its  sweet  illusions: 
it  seems  a  counterpoise  for  misfortune,  an  equivalent  for 
every  endurance.  Who  is  there  without  hope?  The 
fettered  prisoner  in  his  dark  cell,  the  diseased  sufferer 
on  his  bed  of  anguish,  the  friendless  wanderer  on  the 
unsheltered  waste;  each  cherishes  some  latent  spark 
of  this  pure  and  ever-living  light.  Like  the  beam  of 
heaven,  it  glows  with  indestructible  brilliance,  to  the 
heart  of  man  what  light  is  to  his  eye,  cheering,  blessings 
invigorating. 

A  true  hope  we  can  touch  somehow  through  all  the 
lights  and  shadows  of  life.  It  is  a  prophecy  fulfilled  in 
part;  God's  earnest  money  paid  into  our  hand  that  He 
will  be  ready  with  the  whole  when  we  are  ready  for  it; 
the  sunlight  on  the  hill  top  when  the  valley  is  dark  as 
death;  the  spirit  touching  us  all  through  our  pilgrimage^ 
and  then  when  we  know  that  the  end  is  near,  taking  us 
on  its  wings  and  soaring  away  into  the  blessed  life 
where  we  may  expect  either  that  the  fruition  will  be 
entirely  equai  to  the  hope,  or  that  the  old  glamour  will 
come  over  us  again  and  beckon  us  on  forever  as  the 
choicest  blessing  Heaven  has  to  give.  We  know  of 
no  condition  in  any  life  which  is  trying  to  be  real  and 
true  in  which  this  power  will  not  do  for  us  very  much 


HOPE. 


391 


what  we  have  seen  it  doing  for  the  man  who  has  to 
wait  on  the  seasons  for  his  daily  bread. 

We  can  cherish  a  sure  hope  about  our  future  and  the 
future  of  those  that  belong  to  us,  a  sunny,  eager  on- 
looking  toward  the  fulfillment  of  all  of  the  promises 
God  has  written  on  our  nature.  We  may  be  all  wrong 
in  our  thoughts  of  the  special  form  in  which  our  bless- 
ings will  come ;  we  never  can  be  wrong  about  the 
blessing.  It  may  be  like  the  mirage  shifting  from 
horizon  to  horizon  as  we  plod  wearily  along,  but  the 
soul  is  bound  to  find  at  last  the  resting-place  and  the 
spring.  There  is  many  a  father  in  the  world  to-day 
trying  hard  to  get  his  head  above  water  who  will  sink, 
but  his  boys  will  swim  and  reach  the  firm  land,  and 
think  of  him  with  infinite  tenderness,  while  he,  perhaps, 
is  watching  them  from  above,  and  their  success  may 
be  one  of  the  elements  of  his  joy  in  Heaven.  The  set- 
ting of  a  great  hope  is  like  the  setting  of  the  sun.  The 
brightness  of  our  life  is  gone,  shadows  of  the  evening 
fall  behind  us,  and  the  world  seems  but  a  dim  reflection 
itself — a  broader  shadow.  We  look  forward  into  the 
coming  lonely  night;  the  soul  withdraws  itself.  Then 
stars  arise,  and  the  night  is  holy. 

Its  morality  is  equally  inspiring,  rich,  and  beneficent. 
It  encourages  all  things  good,  great,  noble.  It  whispers 
liberty  to  the  slave,  freedom  to  the  captive,  health  to 
the  sick,  home  to  the  wandering,  friends  to  the  forsaken, 
peace  to  the  troubled,  supplies  to  the  needy,  bread  to 
the  hungry,  strength  to  the  weak,  rest  to  the  weary, 
life  to  the  dying.  It  has  sunshine  in  its  eye,  encourage- 
ment on  its  tongue,  and  inspiration  in  its  hand.  Rich 


392 


HOPE. 


and  glorious  is  hope,  and  faithfully  should  it  be  culti- 
vated. Let  its  inspiring  influence  be  in  the  heart  of 
every  youth.  It  will  give  strength  and  courage.  Let 
its  cheerful  words  fall  ever  from  his  tongue,  and  his 
bright  smile  play  ever  on  its  countenance.  Entertain 
well  this  nymph  of  goodness.  Cultivate  well  this 
ever-shining  flower  of  the  spirit.  It  is  the  evergreen 
of  life,  that  grows  at  the  eastern  gate  of  the  souPs 
garden. 

Hopes  and  fears  checker  human  life.  He  that  wants 
hope,  is  the  poorest  man  living.  Our  hopes  and  fears 
are  the  main  springs  of  all  our  religious  endeavors. 
There  is  no  one  whose  condition  is  so  low  but  that  he 
may  have  hopes ;  nor  is  any  one  so  high  as  to  be  out  of 
the  reach  of  fears.  Hopes  and  disappointments  are  the 
lot  and  entertainment  of  human  life:  the  one  serves  to 
keep  us  from  presumption,  the  other  from  despair. 
Hope  is  the  last  thing  that  dieth  in  man,  and  though  it 
be  exceeding  dutiful,  yet  it  is  of  this  good  use  to  us, 
that  while  we  are  traveling  through  this  life,  it  conducts 
us  in  an  easier  and  more  pleasant  way  to  our  journey's 
end.  When  faith,  temperance,  the  graces,  and  other 
celestial  powers,  left  the  earth,  says  one  of  the  ancients, 
hope  was  the  only  goddess  that  staid  behind.  Hope's 
enchantments  never  die.  Eternal  hope!  Hope  gilds 
the  future.  Hope  cheers  and  rouses  the  soul.  Hope 
and  strive  is  the  way  to  thrive.  The  man  who  carries 
a  lantern  in  a  dark  night  can  have  friends  all  around 
him,  walking  safely  by  the  help  of  its  rays,  and  not 
be  defrauded.  So  he  who  has  the  God-given  light  of 
hope  in  his  breast  can  help  on  many  others  in  this 


CHARITY. 


393 


world's  darkness,  not  to  his  own  loss,  but  to  their 
precious  gain. 

Hope  is  an  anchor  to  the  soul,  both  sure  and  stead- 
fast, that  will  steady  our  frail  bark,  while  sailing  over 
the  ocean  of  life,  and  that  will  enable  us  to  outride  the 
storms  of  time  —  a  hope  that  reaches  from  earth  to 
heaven.  This  hope  is  based  on  faith  in  the  immaculate 
Redeemer,  and  keeps  our  earthly  hopes  from  running 
riot  into  forbidden  paths.  The  cable  of  this  hope  can- 
not be  sundered  until  death  cuts  the  gordian  knot  and 
lets  the  prisoner  go  free.  To  live  without  it,  is  blind 
infatuation — to  die  without  it,  eternal  ruin. 


Charity  is  one  of  those  amiable  qualities  of  the 
human  breast  that  imparts  pleasure  to  its  possessor, 
and  those  who  receive  it.  It  is  of  a  modest  and 
retiring  nature.  Charity,  like  the  dew  from  heaven, 
falls  gently  on  the  drooping  flower  in  the  stillness  of 
night.  Its  refreshing  and  reviving  effects  are  felt, 
seen,  and  admired.  It  flows  from  a  good  heart,  and 
looks  beyond  the  skies  for  approval  and  reward.  It 
never  opens,  but  seeks  to  heal  the  wounds  inflicted  by 
misfortune — it  never  harrows  up,  but  strives  to  calm 
the  troubled  mind.  Like  their  Lord  and  Master,  the 
truly  benevolent  man  and  woman  go  about  doing  good 
for  the  sake  of  goodness.    No  parade,  no  trumpet  to 


894 


CHARITY. 


sound  their  charities,  no  press  to  chronicle  their  acts. 
The  gratitude  of  the  donee  is  a  rich  recompense  to  the 
donor — purity  of  motive  heightens  and  refines  the  joys 
of  each.  Angels  smile  on  such  benevolence.  It  is  the 
attribute  of  Deity,  the  moving  cause  of  every  blessing 
we  enjoy. 

Fair  Charity,  be  thou  my  guest, 

And  be  thy  constant  couch,  my  breast. 

— Cotton. 

Charity  is  the  golden  chain  that  reaches  from  heaven 
to  earth.  It  is  another  name  for  disinterested,  lofty, 
unadulterated  love.  It  is  the  substratum  of  philan- 
thropy, the  brightest  star  in  the  Christian's  diadem. 
It  spurns  the  scrofula  of  jealousy,  the  canker  of  tor- 
menting envy,  the  tortures  of  burning  malice,  the 
typhoid  of  foaming  revenge.  It  is  an  impartial  mir- 
ror, set  in  the  frame  of  love,  resting  on  equity  and 
justice.  It  is  the  foundation  and  cap  stone  of  the 
climax  of  all  the  Christian  graces;  without  it,  our 
religion  is  like  a  body  without  a  soul;  our  friendships, 
shadows  of  a  shadow;  our  alms,  the  offsprings  of  pridey 
or,  what  is  more  detestable,  the  offerings  of  hypocrisy; 
our  humanity,  a  mere  iceberg  on  the  ocean  of  time — 
we  are  unfit  to  discharge  the  duties  of  life,  and  derange 
the  design  of  our  creation.  Was  this  heaven-born, 
soul-cheering  principle  the  mainspring  of  human  action^ 
the  all-pervading  motive-power  that  impelled  mankind 
in  their  onward  course  to  eternity,  the  polar  star  to 
guide  them  through  this  world  of  sin  and  wo — the 
ills  that  flesh  is  heir  to,  would  be  softened  in  its  melting 


CHARITY. 


395 


sunbeams,  a  new  and  blissful  era  would  dawn  auspi- 
ciously upon  our  race,  and  Satan  would  become  a 
bankrupt  for  want  of  business.  Wars  and  rumors 
of  wars  would  cease;  envy,  jealousy,  and  revenge 
would  hide  their  diminished  heads;  falsehood,  slander, 
and  persecution  would  be  unknown;  sectarian  walls, 
in  matters  of  religion,  would  crumble  in  dust;  the 
household  of  faith  would  become,  what  it  should  be,, 
one  united,  harmonious  family  in  Christ;  infidelity 
vice,  and  immorality  would  recede,  and  happiness,, 
before  unknown,  would  become  the  crowning  glory 
of  man.  Pure  and  undefiled  religion  would  then  be 
honored  and  glorified — primitive  Christianity  would, 
stand  forth,  divested  of  the  inventions  of  men,  in  all 
the  majesty  of  its  native  loveliness.  Oh,  could  an 
angel  bear  a  balm  of  such  charity  into  our  hearts, 
then  would  earth  become  a  heaven  and  hell  a  fable. 

When  we  take  the  history  of  one  poor  heart  that 
has  sinned  and  suffered,  and  represent  to  ourself  the 
struggles  and  temptations  it  passed  through — the  brief 
pulsation  of  joy,  the  tears  of  regret,  the  feebleness  of 
purpose,  the  scorn  of  the  world  that,  has  little  charity; 
the  desolation  of  the  soul's  sanctuary,  and  threatening 
voices  within;  health  gone;  happiness  gone — we  would 
fain  leave  the  erring  soul  of  our  fellow-man  with  Him 
from  whose  hands  it  came.  It  is  then  that  the  words 
of  Prior  show  their  truth  and  beauty: 

"  Soft  peace  it  brings  wherever  it  arrives, 
It  builds  our  quiet — 'latent  hope  revives,' 
Lays  the  rough  paths  of  nature  1  smooth  and  even/ 
And  opens  in  each  breast  a  little  heaven." 


£96 


KINDNESS. 


Is  any  man  fallen  into  disgrace?  Charity  holds  down 
its  head,  is  abashed  and  out  of  countenance,  partaking 
of  his  shame.  Is  any  man  disappointed  of  his  hopes 
or  endeavors?  Charity  cries  out,  alas!  as  if  it  were 
itself  defeated.  Is  any  man  afflicted  with  pain  or  sick- 
ness ?  Charity  looks  sadly,  it  sigheth  and  groans,  it  faints 
and  languishes  with  him.  Is  any  man  pinched  with 
hard  want?  Charity,  if  it  cannot  succor,  will  condole. 
Does  ill  news  arrive  ?  Charity  hears  it  with  an  unwilling 
ear  and  a  sad  heart,  although  not  particularly  concerned 
in  it.  The  sight  of  a  wreck  at  sea,  of  a  field  spread 
with  carcasses,  of  a  country  desolated,  of  houses  burned 
and  cities  ruined,  and  of  the  like  calamities  incident  to 
mankind,  would  touch  the  bowels  of  any  man;  but  the 
^very  report  of  them  would  affect  the  heart  of  charity. 


More  hearts  pine  away  in  secret  anguish,  foi  the 
want  of  kindness  from  those  who  should  be  their  com- 
forters, than  for  any  other  calamity  in  life.  A  word 
of  kindness  is  a  seed  which,  when  dropped  by  chance, 
springs  up  a  flower.  A  kind  word  and  pleasant  voice 
are  gifts  easy  to  give;  be  liberal  with  them;  they  are 
worth  more  than  money.  "If  a  word  or  two  will  ren- 
der a  man  happy,"  said  a  Frenchman,  "he  must  be  a 
wretch  indeed,  who  will  not  give  it.  It  is  like  lighting 
another  man's  candle  with  your  own.  which  loses  none 


KINDNESS. 


397 


of  its  brilliancy  by  what  the  other  gains."  If  all  men 
acted  upon  that  principle  the  world  would  be  much 
happier  than  it  is.  Kindness  is  like  a  calm  and  peace- 
ful stream  that  reflects  every  object  in  its  just  propor- 
tion. The  violent  spirit,  like  troubled  waters,  renders 
back  the  images  of  things  distorted  and  broken,  and 
communicates  to  them  that  disordered  motion  which 
arises  from  its  own  agitation.  Kindness  makes  sun- 
shine wherever  it  goes;  it  finds  its  way  into  hidden 
chambers  of  the  heart  and  brings  forth  golden  treas- 
ures ;  harshness,  on  the  contrary,  seals  them  up  forever. 
Kindness  makes  the  mother's  lullaby  sweeter  than  the 
song  of  the  lark,  the  care-laden  brow  of  the  father  and 
man  of  business  less  severe  in  their  expression.  Kind- 
ness is  the  real  law  of  life,  the  link  that  connects  earth 
with  heaven,  the  true  philosopher's  stone,  for  all  it 
touches  it  turns  to  virgin  gold;  the  true  gold  wherewith 
we  purchase  contentment,  peace  and  love.  Write  your 
name  by  kindness,  love  and  mercy  on  the  hearts  of  the 
people  you  come  in  contact  with  year  by  year,  and  you 
will  never  be  forgotten. 

In  the  intercourse  of  social  life  it  is  by  little  acts 
of  watchful  kindness  recurring  daily  and  hourly;  and 
opportunities  of  doing  kindness,  if  sought  for,  are  for- 
ever starting  up;  it  is  by  words,  by  tones,  by  gestures, 
by  looks,  that  affection  is  won  and  preserved. 

How  sweet  are  the  affections  of  kindness.  How 
balmy  the  influence  of  that  regard  which  dwells  around 
the  fireside,  where  virtue  lives  for  its  own  sake,  and 
fidelity  regulates  and  restrains  the  thirst  for  admiration, 
often  a  more  potent  foe  to  virtue  than  the  fiercest  lust. 


398 


KINDNESS. 


Where  distrust  and  doubt  dim  not  the  lustre  of  purity, 
and  where  solicitude,  except  for  the  preservation  of  an 
unshaken  confidence,  has  no  place,  and  the  gleam  of 
suspicion  or  jealousy  never  disturb  the  harmony  and 
tranquility  of  the  scene.  Where  paternal  kindness  and 
devoted  filial  affection  blossom  in  all  the  freshness 
of  eternal  spring.  It  matters  not  if  the  world  is  cold, 
if  we  can  turn  to  our  own  dear  circle  for  the  enjoyment 
of  which  the  heart  yearns.  Lord  Bacon  beautifully 
says:  "If  a  man  be  gracious  unto  strangers  it  shows 
he  is  a  citizen  of  the  world,  and  his  heart  is  no  island 
cut  off  from  other  lands,  but  a  continent  that  joins 
them." 

There  is  nothing  like  kindness  in  the  world.  It  is 
the  very  principle  of  love;  an  emanation  of  the  heart 
which  softens  and  gladdens,  and  should  be  inculcated 
and  encouraged  in  all  our  intercourse  with  our  fellow 
beings.  It  is  impossible  to  resist  continued  kindness. 
We  may,  in  a  moment  of  petulance  or  passion,  mani- 
fest coldness  to  the  exhibition  of  good  will  on  the  part 
of  a  new  acquaintance ;  but  let  him  persist,  let  him 
continue  to  prove  himself  really  benevolent  of  heart, 
generously  and  kindly  disposed,  and  we  will  find  our 
stubborn  nature  giving  way,  even  unconsciously  to 
ourselves.  If  this  be  the  result  of  kindness  among 
comparative  strangers,  how  much  more  certain  and 
delightful  will  be  the  exercise  of  the  feelings  at  home, 
within  the  charmed  circle  of  friends  and  relatives  ? 
Home  enjoyments,  home  affections,  home  courtesies, 
cannot  be  too  carefully  or  steadily  cultivated.  They 
form  the  sunshine  of  the  heart.    They  bless  and  sane- 


KINDNESS. 


399 


tify  our  private  circle.  They  become  a  source  of  calm 
delight  to  the  man  of  business  after  a  day  of  toil,  they 
teach  the  merchant,  the  trader,  the  working  man,  that 
there  is  something  purer,  more  precious  even,  than  the 
gains  of  industry.  They  twine  themselves  around  the 
heart,  call  forth  its  best  and  purest  emotions  and 
resources,  enable  us  to  be  more  virtuous,  more  upright, 
more  Christian,  in  all  our  relations  of  life.  We  see  in 
the  little  beings  around  us  the  elements  of  gentleness, 
of  truth,  and  the  beauty  of  fidelity  and  religion.  A 
day  of  toil  is  robbed  of  many  of  its  cares  by  the 
thought  that  in  the  evening  we  may  return  home  and 
mingle  with  the  family  household.  There,  at  least, 
our  experience  teaches  us  we  may  find  confiding  and 
loving  bosoms,  those  who  look  up  to  and  lean  upon  us, 
and  those  also  to  whom  we  may  look  for  counsel  and 
encouragement. 

We  say  to  our  friends,  one  and  all,  cultivate  the 
home  virtues,  the  household  beauties  of  existence. 
Endeavor  to  make  the  little  circle  of  domestic  life  a 
cheerful,  an  intelligent,  a  kindly,  and  a  happy  one. 
Whatever  may  go  wrong  in  the  world  of  business  and 
trade,  however  arduous  may  be  the  struggle  for  fortune 
or  fame,  let  nothing  mar  the  purity  of  reciprocal  love, 
or  throw  into  its  harmonious  existence  the  apple  of 
discord. 

In  the  intercourse  of  social  life  it  is  by  little  acts  of 
watchful  kindness,  recurring  daily  and  hourly ;  and 
opportunities  of  doing  kind  acts,  if  sought  for,  are 
forever  starting  up;  it  is  by  words,  by  tones,  by  ges- 
tures, by  looks,  that  affection  is  won  and  preserved. 


400 


KINDNESS. 


He  who  neglects  these  trifles,  yet  boasts  that,  when- 
ever a  great  sacrifice  is  called  for,  he  shall  be  ready  to 
make  it,  will  rarely  be  loved.  The  likelihood  is  he 
will  not  make  it ;  and  if  he  does,  it  will  be  much  rather 
for  his  own  sake  than  for  his  neighbors.  Life  is  made 
up,  not  of  great  sacrifices  or  duties,  but  of  little  things, 
in  which  smiles,  and  kindness,  and  small  obligations, 
given  habitually,  are  what  win  and  preserve  the  heart, 
and  secure  comfort. 

Give  no  pain.  Breathe  not  a  sentiment,  say  not  a 
word,  give  not  the  expression  of  the  countenance  that 
will  offend  another,  or  send  a  thrill  of  pain  to  his 
bosom.  We  are  surrounded  by  sensitive  hearts,  which 
a  word  or  look  even,  might  fill  to  the  brim  with 
sorrow.  If  you  are  careless  of  the  opinions  of  others, 
remember  that  they  are  differently  constituted  from 
yourself,  and  never,  by  word  or  sign,  cast  a  shadow  on 
a  happy  heart,  or  throw  aside  the  smiles  of  joy  that 
linger  on  a  pleasant  countenance. 

Many  lose  the  opportunity  of  saying  a  kind  thing  by 
waiting  to  weigh  the  matter  too  long.  Our  best 
impulses  are  too  delicate  to  endure  much  handling.  If 
you  fail  to  give  them  expression  the  moment  they  rise, 
they  effervesce,  evaporate,  and  are  gone.  If  they  do 
not  turn  sour,  they  become  flat,  losing  all  life  and 
sparkle  by  keeping.  Speak  promptly  when  you  feel 
kindly. 

Deal  gently  with  the  stranger.  Remember  the 
severed  cord  of  affection,  still  bleeding,  and  beware  not 
to  wound  by  a  thoughtless  act,  or  a  careless  word.  The 
stranger !  he,  perchance,  has  lived  in  an  atmosphere  of 


KINDNESS. 


401 


love  as  warm  as  that  we  breathe.  Alone  and  friend- 
less now,  he  treasures  the  images  of  loved  ones  far 
away,  and  when  gentle  words  and  warm  kisses  are 
exchanged,  we  know  not  how  his  heart  thrills  and  the 
hot  tear  drops  start.  Speak  gently.  The  impatient 
word  our  friends  may  utter  does  not  wound,  so  mailed 
are  you  in  the  impenetrable  armor  of  love.  We  know 
that  it  was  an  inadvertant  word  that  both  will  forget 
in  a  moment  after,  or,  if  not,  you  can  bear  the  censure 
of  one,  when  so  many  love  you  ;  but  keenly  is  an 
unkind  remark  felt  by  the  lone  and  friendless  one. 

Like  a  clinging  vine  torn  from  its  support,  the 
stranger's  heart  begins  to  twine  its  tendrils  around  the 
first  object  which  is  presented  to  it.  Is  love  so  cheap 
a  thing  in  this  world,  or  have  we  already  so  much  that 
we  can  lightly  cast  off  the  instinctive  affections  thus 
proffered?  Oh,  do  not!  To  some  souls  an  atmosphere 
of  love  is  as  necessary  as  the  vital  air  to  the  physical 
system.  A  person  of  such  a  nature  may  clothe  one  in 
imagination  with  all  the  attributes  of  goodness  and 
make  his  heart's  sacrifices  at  the  shrine.  Let  us 
not  cruelly  destroy  the  illusion  by  unkindness. 

Let  the  name  of  stranger  be  ever  sacred,  whether  it 
is  that  of  an  honored  guest  at  our  fire  side,  ar  the  poor 
servant  girl  in  our  kitchen;  the  gray-haired  or  the 
young*;  and  when  we  find  ourselves  far  from  friends, 
and  the  dear  associations  of  home,  and  so  lonely,  may 
some  kind,  some  angel-hearted  being,  by  sympathizing 
words  and  acts,  cause  our  hearts  to  thrill  with  unspoken 
gratitude,  and  thus  we  will  find  again  the  "bread" 
long  "cast  upon  the  waters." 
26 


402 


KINDNtiSS. 


Our  friends  we  must  prize  and  appreciate  while  we 
are  with  them.  It  is  a  shame  not  to  know  how  much 
we  love  our  friends,  and  how  good  they  are,  till  they 
die.  We  must  seize  with  joy  all  our  opportunities ; 
our  duties  we  must  perform  with  pleasure;  our  sacri- 
fices we  must  make  cheerfully,  knowing  that  he  who 
sacrifices  most  is  noblest ;  we  must  forgive  with  an 
understanding  of  the  glory  of  forgiveness,  and  use  the 
blessings  we  have,  realizing  how  great  are  small 
blessings  when  properly  accepted. 

Hard  words  are  like  hail-stones  in  summer,  beating 
down  and  destroying  what  they  would  nourish  if  they 
were  melted  into  drops. 

Kindness  is  stored  awa\~  in  the  heart  like  rose-leaves 
in  a  drawer,  to  sweeten  every  object  around  them. 
Little  drops  of  rain  brighten  the  meadows,  and  little 
acts  of  kindness  brighten  the  world.  We  can  conceive 
of  nothing  more  attractive  than  the  heart  when  filled 
with  the  spirit  of  kindness.  Certainly  nothing  so  em- 
belishes  human  nature  as  the  practice  of  this  virtue;  a 
sentiment  so  genial  and  so  excellent  ought  to  be 
emblazoned  upon  every  thought  and  act  of  our  life. 
The  principle  underlies  the  whole  theory  of  Christian- 
ity, and  in  no  other  person  do  we  find  it  more  happily 
exemplified  than  in  the  life  of  our  Savior,  who,  wThile 
on  earth,  went  about  doing-  good.  And  how  true  it  is 
that 

"A  little  word  in  kindness  spoken. 
A  motion,  or  a  tear, 
Has  often  heal'd  the  heart  that's  broken, 
And  made  a  friend  sincere!" 


FRIENDSHIP. 


403 


Pure,  disinterested  friendship,  is  a  bright  flame, 
emitting  none  of  the  smoke  of  selfishness,  and  seldom 
deigns  to  tabernacle  among  men.  Its  origin  is  divine, 
its  operations  heavenly,  and  its  results  enrapturing  to 
the  soul.  It  is  because  it  is  the  perfection  of  earthly 
bliss  that  the  world  has  ever  been  flooded  with  base 
counterfeits,  many  so  thickly  coated  with  the  pure 
metal,  that  nothing  but  time  can  detect  the  base  inte- 
rior and  ulterior  designs  of  bogus  friends.  Deception 
is  a  propensity  deeply  rooted  in  human  nature,  and  the 
hobby  horse  on  which  some  ride  through  life.  The 
heart  is  deceitful  above  all  things /  who  can  know  it? 

Caution  has  been  termed  the  parent  of  safety,  but 
has  often  been  baffled  by  a  Judas  kiss.  The  most 
cautious  have  been  the  dupes  and  victims  of  the  basest 
deceivers.  We  should  be  extremely  careful  who  we 
confide  in,  and  then  we  will  often  find  ourselves  mis- 
taken. Let  adversity  come,  then  we  may  know  more 
of  our  friends.  Many  will  probably  show  that  they 
were  sunshine  friends,  and  will  escape  as  for  their  lives, 
like  rats  from  a  barn  in  flames!  Ten  to  one,  those  who 
have  enjoyed  the  most  sunshine  will  be  the  first  to  for- 
sake,  censure  and  reproach.  Friendship,  based  entirely 
on  self,  ends  in  desertion  the  moment  the  selfish  ends 
are  accomplished  or  frustrated. 

"  Disguise  so  near  the  truth  doth  seem  to  run, 
'Tis  doubtful  whom  to  seek  or  whom  to  shun ; 
Nor  know  we  when  to  spare  or  when  to  strike, 
Our  friends  and  foes  they  seem  so  much  alike." 


404 


FRIENDSHIP. 


Friendship  is  a  flower  that  blooms  in  all  seasons;  it 
may  be  seen  flourishing  on  the  snow-capped  mountains 
of  Northern  Russia,  as  well  as  in  more  favored  valleys 
of  sunny  Italy,  everywhere  cheering  us  by  its  exquisite 
and  indescribable  charms.  No  surveyed  chart,  no 
national  boundary  line,  no  rugged  mountain  or  steep 
declining  vale  put  a  limit  to  its  growth.  Wherever  it 
is  watered  with  the  dews  of  kindness  and  affection, 
there  you  may  be  sure  to  find  it.  Allied  in  closest 
companionship  with  its  twin-sister,  charity,  it  enters  the 
abode  of  sorrow  and  wretchedness,  and  causes  happi- 
ness and  peace.  It  knocks  at  the  lonely  and  discon- 
solate heart,  and  speaks  words  of  encouragement  and 
joy.  Its  all-powerful  influence  hovers  over  contending 
armies  and  unites  the  deadly  foes  in  the  closest  bonds 
of  sympathy  and  kindness.  ■  Its  eternal  and  universal 
fragrance  dispels  every  poisoned  thought  of  envy,  and 
purifies  the  mind  with  a  holy  and  priceless  contentment 
which  all  the  pomp  and  power  of  earth  could  not 
bestow.  In  vain  do  we  look  for  this  heavenly  flower 
in  the  cold,  calculating  worldling;  the  poor,  deluded 
wretch  is  dead  to  every  feeling  of  its  ennobling  virtue. 
In  vain  do  we  look  for  it  in  the  actions  of  the  proud  and 
aristocratic  votaries  of  fashion;  the  love  of  self-display 
and  of  the  false  and  fleeting  pleasures  of  the  world,  has 
banished  it  forever  from  their  hearts.  In  vain  do  we 
look  for  it  in  the  thoughtless  and  practical  throng,  who 
with  loud  laugh  and  extended  open  hands,  proclaim 
obedience  to  its  laws — while  at  the  same  time  the 
canker  of  malice  and  envy  and  detraction  is  enthroned 
in  their  hearts  and  active  on  their  tongues.  Friendship, 


FRIENDSHIP. 


405 


true  friendship,  can  only  be  found  to  bloom  in  the  soil 
of  a  noble  and  self-sacrificing  heart;  there  it  has  a 
perennial  summer,  a  never-ending  season  of  felicity  and 
joy  to  its  happy  possessor,  casting  a  thousand  rays  of 
love  and  hope  and  peace  to  all  around. 

No  one  can  be  happy  without  a  friend,  and  no  one 
can  know  what  friends  he  has  until  he  is  unhappy. 

It  has  been  observed,  that  a  real  friend  is  somewhat 
like  a  ghost  or  apparition  ;  much  talked  of,  but  hardly 
ever  seen.  Though  this  may  not  be  exactly  true,  it 
must,  however,  be  confessed,  that  a  friend  does  not 
appear  every  day,  and  that  he  who  in  reality  has  found 
one,  ought  to  value  the  boon,  and  be  thankful. 

Where  persons  are  united  by  the  bonds  of  genuine 
friendship,  there  is  nothing,  perhaps,  more  conducive  to 
felicity.  It  supports  and  strengthens  the  mind,  alle- 
viates the  pain  of  life,  and  renders  the  present  state,  at 
4east,  somewhat  comfortable.  "Sorrows,"  says  Lord 
Verulam,  "by  being  communicated,  grow  less,  and  joys 
greater."  "And  indeed,"  observes  another,  "sorrow, 
like  a  stream,  loses  itself  in  many  channels  ;  while  joy,  like 
a  ray  of  the  sun,  reflects  with  a  greater  ardor  and 
quickness  when  it  rebounds  upon  a  man  from  the  breast 
of  his  friend." 

The  friendship  which  is  founded  upon  good  tastes  and 
congenial  habits,  apart  from  piety,  is  permitted  by  the 
benignity  of  Providence  to  embellish  a  world,  which, 
with  all  its  magnificence  and  beauty,  will  shortly  pass 
away ;  that  which  has  religion  for  its  basis  will  ere  long 
be  transplanted  in  order  to  adorn  the  paradise  of  God. 

There  is  true  enjoyment  in  that  friendship  which  has 


406 


FRIENDSHIP. 


its  source  in  the  innocence  and  uprightness  of  a  true 
heart.  Such  pleasures  do  greatly  sweeten  life,  easing  it 
from  many  a  bitter  burden.  A  sympathizing  heart 
finds  an  echo  in  sympathizing  bosoms  that  bring  back 
cheering  music  to  the  spirit  of  the  loveliest.  Be  all 
honor,  then,  to  true  friendship,  and  may  it  gather  yet 
more  fragrant  blossoms  from  the  dew-bathed  meadows 
of  social  intercourse,  to  spread  their  aroma  along  the 
toil-worn  road  of  life.  What  a  blessing  it  is  to  have  a 
friend  to  whom  one  can  speak  fearlessly  upon  any  sub- 
ject ;  with  whom  one's  deepest  thoughts  come  simply 
and  safely.  O,  the  comfort,  the  inexpressible  comfort, 
of  feeling  safe  with  a  person — having  neither  to  weigh 
the  thoughts  nor  measure  the  words,  but  pouring  them 
all  right  out,  just  as  they  are,  chaff  and  grain  together, 
certain  that  a  faithful  hand  will  take  and  sift  them  ; 
keep  what  is  worth  keeping,  and  then,  with  the  breath 
of  kindness,  blow  the  rest  away. 

If  any  form  an  intimacy  merely  for  what  they  can 
gain  by  it,  this  is  not  true  friendship  in  such  a  person. 
It  must  be  free  from  any  such  selfish  view,  and  only 
design  mutual  benefit  as  each  may  require.  Again,  it 
must  be  unreserved.  It  is  true  indeed  that  friends  are 
not  bound  to  reveal  to  each  other  all  their  family  con* 
cerns,  but  they  should  be  ever  ready  to  disclose  what 
may  in  any  point  of  view  concern  each  other.  Lastly, 
it  is  benevolent.  Friends  must  study  to  please  and 
oblige  each  other  in  the  most  delicate,  kind,  and  liberal 
manner  ;  and  that  in  poverty  and  trouble,  as  well  as  in 
riches  or  prosperity.  The  benevolence  of  friends  is  also 
manifested  in  overlooking  each  other's  faults,  and,  in  the 


FRIENDSHIP.  407 

most  tender  manner,  admonishing  eaeh  other  when  they 
do  amiss.  Upon  the  whole,  the  purse,  the  heart,  and 
the  house  ought  to  be  open  to  a  friend,  and  in  no  case 
can  we  shut  out  either  of  them,  unless  upon  clear  proofs 
of  treachery,  immorality,  or  some  other  great  crime. 

The  first  law  of  friendship  is  sincerity  ;  and  he  who 
violates  this  law,  will  soon  find  himself  destitute  of  what 
he  so  erringly  seeks  to  gain  ;  for  the  deceitful  heart  of 
such  an  one  will  soon  betray  itself,  and  feel  the  contempt 
due  to  insincerity.  The  world  is  so  full  of  selfishness, 
that  true  friendship  is  seldom  found  ;  yet  it  is  often 
sought  for  paltry  gain  by  the  base  and  designing. 
Behold  that  toiling  miser,  with  his  ill-got  and  worthless 
treasures  ;  his  soul  is  never  moved  by  the  hallowed 
influence  of  the  sacred  boon  of  friendship,  which  renews 
again  on  earth  lost  Eden's  faded  bloom,  and  flings  hope's 
halcyon  halo  over  the  wastes  of  life.  The  envious 
man — he,  too,  seeks  to  gain  the  applause  of  others  for 
an  unholy  usage,  by  which  he  may  usurp  a  seat  of  pre- 
eminence for  himself.  Self-love,  the  spring  of  motion, 
acts  upon  his  soul.  All  are  fond  of  praise,  and  many 
are  dishonest  in  the  use  of  means  to  obtain  it  ;  hence  it 
is  often  difficult  to  distinguish  between  true  and  false 
friendship. 


408 


COURTSHIP. 


All  the  blessedness,  all  the  utility,  efficacy,  and 
happiness  of  the  married  state,  depends  upon  its  truth- 
fulness, or  the  wisdom  of  the  union.  Marriage  is  not 
necessarily  a  blessing.  It  may  be  the  bitterest  curse. 
It  may  sting  like  an  adder  and  bite  like  a  serpent.  Its 
bower  is  as  often  made  of  thorns  as  of  roses.  It  blasts 
as  many  sunny  expectations  as  it  realizes.  Every  im- 
proper marriage  is  a  living  misery,  an  undying  death. 
Its  bonds  are  grated  bars  of  frozen  iron.  It  is  a  spirit 
prison,  cold  as  the  dungeon  of  ruin.  An  illy-mated 
human  pair  is  the  most  woeful  picture  of  human  wretch- 
edness that  is  presented  in  the  book  of  life;  and  yet, 
such  pictures  are  plenty.  Every  page  we  turn  gives  us 
a  view  of  some  such  living  bondage.  But  a  proper 
marriage,  a  true  interior,  soul-linked  union  is  a  living 
picture  of  blessedness,  unrivaled  in  beauty.  A  true 
marriage  is  the  soul's  Eden.  It  is  the  portal  of  heaven. 
It  is  the  visiting-place  of  angels.  It  is  the  charm  inde- 
scribable of  a  spirit  in  captivation  with  all  imaginable 
beauty  and  loveliness.  It  is  a  constant  peace-offering, 
that  procures  a  continual  Sabbath  day  sweetness,  rich 
as  the  quietude  of  reposing  angels.  It  is  not  given  to 
words  to  express  the  refinement  of  pleasure,  the  delicacy 
of  joy  and  the  abounding  fullness  of  satisfaction  that 
those  feel  whom  God  hath  joined  in  a  high  marriage  of 
spirit.  Such  a  union  is  the  highest  school  of  virtue,  the 
soul's  convent,  where  the  vestal  fires  of  purity  are  kept 
continually  burning. 


COURTSHIP. 


409 


Marriage,  then,  should  be  made  a  study.  Every 
youth,  both  male  and  female,  should  so  consider  it.  It 
is  the  grand  social  institution  of  humanity.  Its  laws 
and  relations  are  of  momentous  importance  to  the  race. 
Shall  it  be  entered  blindly,  in  total  ignorance  of  what 
it  is,  what  its  conditions  of  happiness  are? 

"Marriage  is  a  lottery,"  exclaim  so  many  men  and 
women  you  meet.  And  why  is  it  so?  Simply  because 
courtship  is  a  grand  scheme  of  deception,  Is  it  not  so? 
Who  courts  hojiestly  f  Some,  it  is  true ;  but  few,  indeed. 
Let  us  see,  it  is  conducted  something  like  this:  A 
young  man  and  woman  meet  at  a  party,  ball,  school,  or 
church.  The  young  man  sees  something  in  the  lady 
that  attracts  his  attention;  it  may  be  her  pretty  face 
her  golden  curls,  her  flashing  eyes,  her  delicate  hand  or 
slender  waist,  or  snowy  neck,  or  graceful  carriage,  or 
more  likely,  the  'plumage  in  which  the  bird  shines.  He 
looks  again,  and  then  again,  and  without  one  particle 
of  sense  or  reason  for  it,  save  that  he  has  caught  the 
fair  one's  eye,  his  attraction  rises  into  captivation.  He 
seeks  an  introduction.  A  little  parley  of  nonsense 
ensues,  about  fashion,  parties,  beaux  and  belles,  and  a 
few  jokes  pass  about  "invitations,"  "captivations," 
"runaway  matches,"  etc.;  then  an  appointment  for 
another  meeting,  a  walk,  a  visit  to  a  saloon,  a  neighbor, 
or  something  of  the  kind,  follows,  and  they  part,  both 
determined,  in  the  utmost  desperation,  to  catch  the 
prize,  if  possible.  They  dream,  and  sing,  and  make 
verses  about  each  other,  and  meditate  ways  and  means 
to  appear  captivating  at  the  next  meeting,  till  it  arrives, 
when,  lo !  they  meet,  all  wreathed  in  smiles  and  shining 


410 


COURTSHIP. 


in  beautiful  things.  How  can  it  be  otherwise  than  that 
their  captivation  shall  become  absolute  adoration  now. 
The  afternoon  and  evening  are  spent  together,  each  in 
perfect  delight.  They  talk  about  flowers,  and  stars, 
and  poetry,  and  give  hints,  and  signs,  and  tokens,  till 
each  understands  the  other's  captivations. 

They  are  engaged  and  get  married. 

Married  life  now  comes  and  ushers  in  its  morning 
glory,  and  they  are  happy  as  a  happy  pair  can  well  be 
for  a  while.  But  "life  is  real,"  and  character  is  real, 
and  love  is  real.  When  life's  reality  comes  they  find 
things  in  each  other's  characters  that  perfectly  startle 
them.  Every  day  reveals  something  new  and  some- 
thing unpleasant.  The  courtship  character  slowly  fades 
away,  and  with  it  the  courtship  love.  Now  comes 
disappointment,  sorrow,  regret.  They  find  that  their 
characters  are  entirely  dissimilar.  Married  life  is  a 
burden,  full  of  cares,  vexations,  and  disappointments. 
But  they  must  make  the  best  of  it,  and  bear  it 
through.  Yes,  marriage  is  a  lottery.  They  know  it. 
Some  may  get  prizes,  and  some  may  not.  No  one 
knows  before  he  draws,  whether  he  will  draw  a  blank 
or  a  prize.  This  is  their  conclusion.  They  did  not 
court  in  the  right  way.  They  courted  by  impulse,  and 
not  by  judgment;  it  was  a  process  of  wooing,  and  not 
of  discovery;  it  was  an  effort  to  please,  and  not  a 
search  for  companionship;  it  was  done  with  excitement, 
and  not  with  calmness  and  deliberation;  it  was  done  in 
haste,  and  not  with  cautious  prudence;  it  was  a  vision 
of  the  heart,  and  not  a  solemn  reality;  it  was  conducted 
by  feeling,  and  not  by  reason;  it  was  so  managed  as  to 


COURTSHIP. 


411 


be  a  perpetual  blandishment  of  pleasure,  the  most  intox- 
icating and  delightful,  and  not  a  trying  ordeal  for  the 
enduring  realities  of  solid  and  stubborn  life;  it  was  a 
perpetual  yielding  up  of  every  thing,  and  not  a  firm 
maintaining  of  every  thing  that  belongs  to  the  man  or 
woman.  In  almost  every  particular  it  was  false,  and 
Iience  must  be  followed  by  evil  consequences.  All 
similar  courting  is  bad. 

Courtship,  as  it  is  generally  conducted,  is  a  game  at 
"blind-man's-buff,"  only  that  both  parties  are  blinded. 
They  voluntarily  blind  themselves,  and  then  blind  each 
other;  and  thus  they  "go  it  blind,"  till  their  eyes  are 
opened  in  marriage.  It  is  necessary  for  the  youth  of 
both  sexes  to  be  perfectly  honest  in  their  intercourse 
with  each  other,  so  as  to  exhibit  always  their  true 
character  and  nature.  Dishonesty  is,  perhaps,  a  greater 
barrier  even  than  ignorance  to  a  proper  understanding 
of  the  real  character  of  those  with  whom  we  contem 
plate  matrimonial  alliances.  Young  men  and  women 
are  not  true  to  themselves.  They  put  on  false  charac- 
ters. They  assume  airs  not  their  own.  They  shine  in 
borrowed  plumes.  They  practice  every  species  of 
deception  for  the  concealment  of  their  real  characters. 
They  study  to  appear  better  than  they  are.  They 
seek,  by  the  adornments  of  dress  and  gems,  by  the 
blandishments  of  art  and  manner,  by  the  allurements  of 
smiles  and  honeyed  words,  by  the  fascination  of  pleasure 
and  scenes  of  excitement,  to  add  unreal,  unpossessed 
charms  to  their  persons  and  characters.  They  appear 
in  each  others  society  to  be  the  embodiment  of  good- 
ness and  sweetness,  the  personification  of  lofty  principle 


412 


COURTSHIP. 


and  holy  love,  when,  in  fact,  they  are  full  of  human 
weaknesses  and  frailties. 

W e  have  remarked  that  the  ostensible  object  of  court- 
ship is  the  choice  of  a  companion.  It  is  not  to  woo;  it 
is  not  to  charm  or  gratify,  or  please,  simply  for  the 
present  pleasure ;  it  is  not  for  the  present  sweets  of  such 
an  intimate  and  confiding  intercourse.  It  is  simply  and 
plainly  for  the  selection  of  a  life  companion;  one  who 
must  bear,  suffer,  and  enjoy  life  with  us  in  all  its  frowns 
and  smiles,  joys  and  sorrows;  one  who  can  walk  pleas- 
antly, willingly,  and  confidingly,  by  our  side,  through 
all  the  intricate  and  changing  vicissitudes  incident  to 
mortal  life.  Now,  how  shall  courtship  be  conducted  so 
as  to  make  marriage  a  certainty  and  not  a  lottery  ? 
This  is  the  question. 

Now  let  us  ask  what  is  to  be  sought  ?  You  answer, 
a  companion.  What  is  a  companion  ?  A  congenial 
spirit,  one  possessed  of  an  interior  constitution  of  soul 
similar  to  our  own,  of  similar  age,  opinions,  tastes,  habits, 
modes  of  thought,  and  feeling.  A  congenial  spirit  is 
one  who,  under  any  given  combination  of  circumstances, 
would  be  affected,  and  feel  and  act  as  we  ourselves 
would.  It  is  one  who  would  enjoy  what  we  would  enjoy, 
dislike  what  we  would  dislike,  approve  what  we  would 
approve,  and  condemn  what  we  would  condemn,  not  for 
the  purpose  of  agreeing  with  us,  but  of  his  or  her  own 
free  will.  This  is  a  companion;  one  who  is  kindred  in 
soul  with  us;  who  is  already  united  to  us  by  the  ties 
of  spiritual  harmony;  which  union  it  is  the  object  of 
courtship  to  discover.  Courtship,  then,  is  a  voyage  of 
discovery;  or  a  court  of  inquiry,  established  by  mutual 


FLIRTING. 


413 


onsent  of  the  parties,  to  see  wherein  and  to  what 
extent  there  is  a  harmony  existing.  If  in  all  these  they 
honestly  and  inmostly  agree,  and  find  a  deep  and  thril- 
ling pleasure  in  their  agreement,  find  their  union  of 
sentiment  to  give  a  charm  to  their  social  intercourse; 
if  now  they  feel  that  their  hearts  are  bound  as  well  as 
their  sentiments  in  a  holy  unity,  and  that  for  each  other 
they  would  live,  and  labor,  and  make  every  personal 
sacrifice  with  gladness,  and  that  without  each  other 
they  know  not  how  to  live,  it  is  their  privilege,  yes, 
their  duty,  to  form  a  matrimonial  alliance.  And  it  will 
not  be  a  lottery.  They  know  what  they  are  to  give 
and  what  they  are  to  get.  They  will  be  married  in  the 
full  blaze  of  light  and  love,  and  be  married  for  a  happy, 
virtuous,  and  useful  union,  to  bless  themselves  and  the 
world  with  a  living  type  of  heaven. 


The  ostensible  object  of  courtship  is  the  choice  of  a 
companion.  For  no  other  object  should  any  intercourse 
having  the  appearance  of  courtship  be  permitted  or 
indulged  in.  It  is  a  species  of  high-handed  fraud  upon 
an  unsuspecting  heart,  worthy  of  the  heaviest  penalty 
of  public  opinion,  or  law.  The  affections  are  too  tender 
and  sacred  to  be  trifled  with.  He  who  does  it  is  a 
wretch.  He  should  be  ranked  among  thieves,  robbers, 
villains,  and  murderers.    He  who  steals  money  steals 


414  FLIRTING. 

trash;  but  he  who  steals  affections  without  a  return  of 
similar  affections  steals  that  which  is  dearer  than  life 
and  more  precious  than  wealth.  His  theft  is  a  robbery 
of  the  heart. 

Flirting  is  a  horrid  outrage  upon  the  most  holy  and 
exalted  feelings  of  the  human  soul,  and  the  most  sacred 
and  important  relation  of  life.  It  is  a  vulgarism  and 
wickedness  to  be  compared  only  to  blasphemy.  It  had, 
and  still  has,  its  origin  in  the  basest  lust.  The  refined 
soul  is  always  disgusted  with  it.  It  is  awfully  demoral- 
izing in  its  tendency,  and  low  and  base  in  its  character. 
It  is  true,  many  bandy  their  low  jokes  upon  this  matter 
in  thoughtlessness;  but  if  they  would  take  one  moment's 
sober  reflection  upon  it,  they  would  see  the  impropriety 
of  jesting  about  the  most  delicate,  serious,  and  sacred 
feelings  and  relations  in  human  existence.  The  whole 
tendency  of  such  lightness  is  to  cause  the  marriage 
relation  to  be  lightly  esteemed,  and  courtship  to  be 
made  a  round  of  low  fun  and  frolic,  in  which  every 
species  of  deception  is  endeavored  to  be  played  off. 
Until  it  is  viewed  in  its  true  light,  in  that  sober  earnest- 
ness which  the  subject  demands,  how  can  courtship  be 
anything  else  than  a  grand  game  of  hypocrisy,  result- 
ing in  wickedness  and  misery  the  most  ruinous  and 
deplorable  ? 

There  is  much  trifling  courting  among  the  young  in 
some  portions  of  the  country  that  results  in  such 
calamitous  consequences;  carried  on  sometimes  when 
the  young  man  means  nothing  but  present  pleasure,  and 
sometimes  when  the  young  woman  has  no  other  object 
in  view.    Such  intercourse  is  confined  mostly  to  young 


FLIRTING. 


415 


men  and  women  before  they  are  of  age.  It  is  a  crying 
evil,  worthy  of  the  severest  censure. 

A  case  was  recently  tried  in  Rutland,  Vermont,  in 
which  a  Miss  Munson  recovered  fourteen  hundred  and 
twenty-five  dollars  of  a  Mr.  Hastings  for  a  breach  of 
marriage  contract.  The  curiosity  of  the  thing  is  this: 
The  Vermont  judge  charged  the  jury  that  no  explicit 
promise  was  necessary  to  bind  the  parties  to  a  marriage 
contract,  but  that  long  continued  attentions  or  intimacy 
with  a  female  was  as  good  evidence  of  intended  matri- 
mony as  a  special  contract.  The  principle  of  the  case 
undoubtedly  is,  that  if  Hastings  did  not  promise,  he 
ought  to  have  done  so — the  law  holds  him  responsible 
for  the  non-performance  of  his  duty.  A  most  excellent 
decision.  We  think  if  there  were  more  such  cases 
there  would  be  less  flirting. 

fOne  of  the  meanest  things  a  young  man  can  do  (and 
it  is  not  at  all  of  uncommon  occurrence)  is  to  mono- 
polize the  time  and  attention  of  a  young  girl  for  a  year, 
or  more,  without  any  definite  objec^  and  to  the  exclu- 
sion of  other  gentlemen,  who,  supposing  him  to  have 
matrimonial  intentions,  absent  themselves  from  her 
society.  This  selfish  "  dog-in-the-manger "  way  of 
proceeding  should  be  discountenanced  and  forbidden 
by  all  parents  and  guardians.  It  prevents  the  reception 
of  eligible  offers  of  marriage,  and  fastens  upon  the 
young  lady,  when  the  acquaintance  is  finally  dissolved, 
the  unenviable  and  unmerited  appellation  of  "flirt.' 
Let  all  your  dealings  with  women,  young  man,  be 
frank,  honest  and  noble.  That  many  whose  education 
and  position  in  life  would  warrant  our  looking  for 


416 


BACHELORS. 


better  things,  are  culpably  criminal  on  these  points,  is 
no  excuse  for  your  shortcomings.  That  woman  is  often 
injured,  or  wronged,  through  her  holiest  feelings,  adds 
but  a  blacker  dye  to  your  meanness.  One  rule  is  always 
safe :  Treat  every  woman  you  meet  as  you  would  wish 
another  man  to  treat  your  innocent,  confiding  sister. 


Marriage  has  a  great  refining  and  moralizing 
tendency.  Nearly  all  the  debauchery  and  crime  is 
committed  by  unmarried  men,  or  by  those  who  have 
wives  equal  to  none,  at  least  to  them.  When  a  man 
marries  early,  and  uses  prudence  in  choosing  a  suitable 
companion,  he  is  likely  to  lead  a  virtuous,  happy  life. 
But  in  an  unmarried  state,  all  alluring  vices  have  a 
tendency  to  draw  him  away.  We  notice  in  the  State 
penitentiary  reports  that  nearly  all  the  criminals  are 
bachelors.  The  more  married  men  you  have,  the 
fewer  crimes  there  will  be.  Marriage  renders  a  man 
more  virtuous  and  more  wise.  An  unmarried  man  is 
but  half  of  a  perfect  being,  and  it  requires  the  other 
half  to  make  things  right;  and  it  cannot  be  expected 
that  in  this  imperfect  state  he  can  keep  straight  in  the 
path  of  rectitude  any  more  than  a  boat  with  one  oar 
can  keep  a  straight  course.  In  nine  cases  out  of  ten, 
where  married  men  become  drunkards,  or  where  they 
commit  crimes  against  the  peace  of  the  community, 


BACHELORS. 


417 


the  foundation  of  these  acts  was  laid  while  in  a  single 
state,  or  where  the  wife  is,  as  is  sometimes  the  case, 
an  unsuitable  match.  Marriage  changes  the  current 
of  a  man's  feelings  and  gives  him  a  center  for  his 
thoughts,  his  affections  and  his  acts. 

If  it  were  intended  for  man  to  be  single,  there  would 
be  no  harm  in  remaining  so;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  it 
would  become  a  crime  if  any  persons  would  unite  and 
live  as  wedded.  But,  since  this  is  not  the  Divine  law, 
it  is  a  sin  and  crime  if  men  do  not  marry,  and  live  as 
designed. 

Marriage  is  a  school  and  exercise  of  virtue;  and 
though  marriage  hath  cares,  yet  single  life  hath 
desires,  which  are  more  troublesome  and  more  dan- 
gerous, and  often  end  in  sin;  while  the  cares  are 
but  exercises  of  piety;  and,  therefore,  if  the  single 
life  hath  more  privacy  of  devotion,  yet  marriage 
hath  more  variety  of  it,  and  is  an  exercise  of  more 
graces.  Marriage  is  the  proper  scene  of  piety  and 
patience,  of  the  duty  of  parents  and  the  charity  of 
relations;  here  kindness  is  spread  abroad,  and  love  is 
united  and  made  firm  as  a  center.  Marriage  is  the 
nursery  of  heaven.  The  virgin  sends  prayers  to  God; 
but  she  carries  but  one  soul  to  him;  but  the  state  of 
her  marriage  fills  up  the  numbers  of  the  elect,  and 
hath  in  it  the  labor  of  love,  and  the  delicacies  of 
friendship,  the  blessings  of  society,  and  the  union  of 
hearts  and  hands.  It  hath  in  it  more  safety  than  the 
single  life;  it  hath  more  care,  it  is  more  merry  and 
more  sad;  is  fuller  of  sorrows  and  fuller  of  joys;  it 
lies  under  more  burdens,  but  is  supported  by  all  the 
27 


418 


BACHELORS. 


•strength  of  love  and  charity  which  makes  those  bur- 
dens delightful.  Marriage  is  the  mother  of  the  world, 
and  preserves  kingdoms,  and  fills  cities,  and  churches, 
and  heaven  itself,  and  is  that  state  of  good  things  to 
which  God  hath  designed  the  present  constitution  of 
the  world. 

W e  advise  every  young  man  to  get  married.  The 
chances  are  better  by  fifty  per  cent.,  all  through  life, 
in  every  respect.  There  is  no  tear  shed  for  the  old 
bachelor;  there  is  no  ready  hand  and  kind  heart  to 
cheer  him  in  his  loneliness  and  bereavement;  there  is 
none  in  whose  eyes  he  can  see  himself  reflected,  and 
from  whose  lips  he  can  receive  the  unfailing  assurances 
of  care  and  love.  He  may  be  courted  for  his  money; 
he  may  eat  and  drink  and  revel;  and  he  may  sicken 
and  die  in  a  hotel  or  a  garret,  with  plenty  of  attend- 
ants about  him,  like  so  many  cormorants  waiting  foi 
their  prey;  but  he  will  never  know  the  comforts  of  the 
domestic  fireside. 

The  guardians  of  the  Holborn  Union  lately  adver- 
tised for  candidates  to  fill  the  situation  of  engineer  at 
the  work-house,  a  single  man,  a  wife  not  being  allowed 
to  reside  on  the  premises.  Twenty-one  candidates 
presented  themselves,  but  it  was  found  that  as  to  testi- 
monials, character,  workmanship,  and  appearance,  the 
best  men  were  all  married  men.  The  guardians  had 
therefore  to  elect  a  married  man. 

A  man  who  avoids  matrimony  on  account  of  the 
cares  of  wedded  life,  cuts  himself  off  from  a  great 
blessing  for  fear  of  a  trifling  annoyance.  He  rivals 
the  wise-acre  who  secured  himself  against  corns  by 


INFLUENCE  OF  MATRIMONY. 


■119 


having  his  legs  amputated.  My  bachelor  brother, 
there  cannot,  by  any  possibility,  be  a  home  where 
there  is  no  wife.  To  talk  of  a  home  without  love, 
we  might  as  well  expect  to  find  an  American  fireside 
in  one  of  the  pyramids  of  Egypt. 

There  is  a  world  of  wisdom  in  the  following: 
"Every  schoolboy  knows  that  a  kite  would  not  fly 
unless  it  had  a  string  tying  it  down.  It  is  just  so 
in  life.  The  man  who  is  tied  down  by  half-a-dozen 
bloorrrng  responsibilities  and  their  mother,  will  make 
a  higher  and  stronger  flight  than  the  bachelor  who, 
having  nothing  to  keep  him  steady,  is  always  floun- 
dering in  the  mud.  If  you  want  to  ascend  in  the 
world,  tie  yourself  to  somebody. " 


Marriage  is  an  occasion  on  which  none  refuse  to 
sympathize.  Would  that  all  were  equally  able  and 
willing  to  understand!  Would  that  all  could  know 
how,  from  the  first  flow  of  the  affections  till  they  are 
shed  abroad  in  all  their  plenitude,  the  purposes  of  their 
creation  become  fulfilled.  They  were  to  life  like  a 
sleeping  ocean  to  a  bright  but  barren  and  silent  shore. 
When  the  breeze  from  afar  awakened  it,  new  lights 
began  to  gleam,  and  echoes  to  be  heard;  rich  and 
unthought-of  treasures  were  cast  up  from  the  depths; 
the  barriers  of  individuality  were  broken  down;  and 


420 


INFLUENCE  OF  MATRIMONY. 


from  henceforth,  they  who  choose  may  "hear  the 
mighty  waters  rolling  evermore."  Would  that  all 
could  know  how,  by  this  mighty  impulse,  new  strength 
is  given  to  every  power — how  the  intellect  is  vivified 
and  enlarged — how  the  spirit  becomes  bold  to  explore 
the  path  of  life,  and  clear-sighted  to  discern  its  issues! 

Marriage  is,  to  a  woman,  at  once  the  happiest  and 
saddest  event  of  her  life;  it  is  the  promise  of  future 
bliss,  raised  on  the  death  of  all  present  enjoyment. 
She  quits  her  home,  her  parents,  her  companions,  her 
occupations,  her  amusements  —  her  everything  upon 
which  she  has  hitherto  depended  for  comfort — for 
affection,  for  kindness,  for  pleasure.  The  parents  by 
whose  advice  she  has  been  guided,  the  sister  to  whom 
she  has  dared  impart  every  embryo  thought  and  feel- 
ing, the  brother  who  has  played  with  her,  in  turns  the 
counselor  and  the  counseled,  and  the  younger  children 
to  whom  she  has  hitherto  been  the  mother  and  the 
playmate  —  all  are  to  be  forsaken  in  one  instant;  every 
former  tie  is  loosened,  the  spring  of  every  hope  and 
action  to  be  changed,  and  yet  she  flies  with  joy  into 
the  untrodden  paths  before  her.  Buoyed  up  by  the 
confidence  of  requited  love,  she  bids  a  fond  and  grate- 
ful adieu  to  the  life  that  is  past,  and  turns  with  excited 
hopes  and  joyous  anticipations  of  the  happiness  to 
come.  Then  woe  to  the  man  who  can  blast  such 
hopes — who  can,  coward-like,  break  the  illusions  that 
have  won  her,  and  destroy  the  confidence  which  his 
love  inspired. 

There  is  no  one  thing  more  lovely  in  this  life,  more 
full  of  the  divinest  courage,  than  when  a  young  maiden, 


'  INFLUENCE  OF  MATRIMONY.  421 

from  her  past  life,  from  her  happy  childhood,  when  she 
rambled  over  every  field  and  moor  around  her  home; 
when  a  •  mother  anticipated  her  wants  and  soothed  her 
little  cares;  when  brothers  and  sisters  grew  from 
merry  playmates  to  loving,  trustful  friends;  from  the 
Christmas  gatherings  and  romps,  the  summer  festivals 
in  bower  or  garden;  from  the  rooms  sanctified  by  the 
death  of  relatives;  from  the  holy  and  secure  back- 
grounds of  her  childhood,  and  girlhood,  and  maiden- 
hood, looks  out  into  a  dark  and  .  unillumined  future, 
away  from  all  that,  and  yet  unterrified,  undaunted, 
leans  her  fair  cheek  upon  her  lover's  breast,  and  whis- 
pers, "Dear  heart!  I  cannot  see,  but  I  believe.  The 
past  was  beautiful,  but  the  future  I  can  trust  with 
thee!" 

Wherever  woman  plights  her  truth,  under  the  sky 
of  heaven,  at  the  domestic  hearth,  or  in  the  conse- 
crated aisles,  the  ground  is  holy,  the  spirit  of  the  hour 
is  sacramental.  That  it  is  thus  felt  even  by  the  most 
trivial  may  be  observed  at  the  marriage  ceremony. 
Though  the  mirth  may  be  fast  and  furious  before  or 
after  the  irrevocable  formula  is  spoken,  yet  at  that 
point  of  time  there  is  a  shadow  on  the  most  laughing 
lip — a  moisture  in  the  firmest  eye.  Wedlock,  indis- 
soluble, except  by  an  act  of  God  —  a  sacrament  whose 
solemnity  reaches  to  eternity — will  always  hold  its 
rank  in  literature,  as  the  most  impressive  fact  of  human 
experience  in  dramatic  writing,  whether  of  the  stage 
or  closet,  the  play  or  novel.  It  must  be  so.  If  govern- 
ment, with  all  its  usurpations  and  aggressions,  has 
appropriated  history,  let  the  less  ambitious  portions 


422 


INFLUENCE  OF  MATRIMONY. 


of  our  literature  be  sacred  to  the  affections — to  the 
family,  based  upon  conjugal  and  parental  love,  as  that 
institution  is  the  state  which  hitherto  in  the  world's 
annals,  has  been  little  else  than  the  sad  exponent  of 
human  ambition. 

A  judicious  wife  is  always  snipping  off  from  her 
husband's  moral  nature,  little  twigs  that  are  growing 
in  the  wrong  direction.  She  keeps  him  in  shape  by 
continual  pruning.  If  you  say  anything  silly,  she  will 
affectionately  tell s  you  so.  If  you  declare  you  will  do 
some  absurd  thing,  she  will  rind  means  of  preventing 
you  from  doing  it.  And  by  far  the  chief  part  of  all 
common  sense  there  is  in  this  world  belongs  unques- 
tionably to  woman.  The  wisest  things  which  a  man 
commonly  does  are  those  which  his  wife  counsels  him 
to  do.  A  wife  is  the  grand  wielder  of  the  moral 
pruning  knife.  When  you  see  a  man  appearing  shabby, 
hair  uncombed,  and  no  buttons  on  his  coat,  nine  times 
out  of  ten  you  are  correct  in  concluding  that  he  is  a. 
bachelor.  You  can  conclude  much  the  same  when  you 
see  a  man  profane,  or  speaking  vulgarly  of  ladies.  We 
would  add  that  young  men  who  wish  to  appear  well  in 
every  respect  should  get  married.  It  has  been  well 
said,  UA  man  unmarried  is  but  a  half  a  man." 

It  was  thus,  surely,  that  intellectual  beings  of  differ- 
ent sexes  were  intended  by  their  great  Creator  to  go- 
through  the  world  together;  thus  united,  not  only  in. 
hand  and  heart,  but  in  principles,  in  intellect,  in  views,, 
and  in  dispositions;  each  pursuing  one  common  and 
noble  end — their  own  improvement  and  the  happiness 
of  those  around  them — by  the  different  means  appro- 


INFLUENCE  OF  MATRIMONY. 


42$ 


priate  to  their  situation;  mutually  correcting,  sustaining 
and  strengthening  each  other;  undegraded  by  all  prac- 
tices of  tyranny  on  the  one  hand  and  of  deceit  on  the 
other;  each  finding  a  candid  but  severe  judge  in  the 
understanding,  and  a  warm  and  partial  advocate  in 
the  heart  of  their  companion;  secure  of  a  refuge  from 
the  vexations,  the  follies,  the  misunderstandings  and  the 
evils  of  the  world  in  the  arms  of  each  other,  and  in  the 
inestimable  enjoyments  of  undisturbed  confidence  and 
unrestrained  intimacy. 

The  law  that  binds  the  one  man  to  the  one  woman  is, 
indelibly  written  by  nature,  that  wherever  it  is  violated 
in  general  system,  the  human  race  is  found  to  deter- 
iorate in  mind  and  form.  The  ennobling  influences  of 
women  cease;  the  wife  is  a  companion — a  hundred, 
wives  are  but  a  hundred  slaves.  Nor  is  this  all,  unless 
man  looks  to  a  woman  as  a  treasure  to  be  wooed  and 
won — her  smile  the  charm  of  his  existence — her  single 
heart  the  range  of  his  desires — that  which  deserves 
the  name  of  love  cannot  exist;  it  is  struck  out  of  the 
hateful  system  of  society.  Now,  if  there  be  a  passion 
in  the  human  breast  which  most  tends  to  lift  us  out  of 
egotism  and  self,  which  most  teaches  us  to  love  another,, 
which  purifies  and  warms  the  whole  mortal  being,  it  is 
love,  as  we  of  the  North  hold  it  and  cherish  it.  For 
even  when  the  fair  spring  of  youth  has  passed,  and 
when  the  active  life  is  employed  in  such  grave  pursuits 
that  the  love  of  his  early  years  seems  to  him  like  a 
dream  of  romance,  still  that  love,  having  once  lifted 
him  out  of  egotism  into  sympathy,  does  but  pass  into 
new  forms  and  development  —  it  has  locked  his  heart 


424 


INFLUENCE  OF  MATRIMONY: 


to  charity  and  benevolence — it  gives  a  smile  to  his 
home  —  it  rises  up  in  the  e}/es  of  his  children  —  from  his 
heart  it  circulates  insensibly  on  to  all  the  laws  that 
protect  the  earth,  to  the  native  lands  which  spread 
around  it.  Thus  in  the  history  of  the  world  we  dis- 
cover that  wherever  love  is  created,  as  it  were,  and 
sanctioned  by  that  equality  between  the  sexes  which 
the  permanent  and  holy  union  of  one  heart  with  another 
proclaims;  there,  too,  patriotism,  liberty — the  manly 
and  gentle  virtues  —  also  find  their  place;  and  wherever, 
on  the  contrary,  polygamy  is  practiced  and  love  disap- 
pears in  the  gross  satiety  of  the  senses,  there  we  find 
neither  respect  for  humanity  nor  reverence  for  home, 
nor  affection  for  the  natal  soil.  And  one  reason  why 
Greece  is  contrasted  in  all  that  dignifies  our  nature,  the 
effeminate  and  dissolute  character  of  the  East  which  it 
overthrew,  is,  that  Greece  was.  the  earliest  civilized 
country  in  which,  on  the  borders  of  those  great  mon- 
archies, marriage  was  the  sacred  tie  between  one  man 
and  one  woman — and  man  was  the  thoughtful  father 
of  a  home,  not  the  wanton  lord  of  a  seraglio. 

Nothing  delights  me  more  than  to  enter  the  neat 
little  tenement  of  the  young  couple,  who,  within  per- 
haps two  or  three  years,  without  any  resources  but 
their  own  knowledge  or  industry,  have  joined  heart 
and  hand,  and  engaged  to  share  together  the  responsi- 
bilities, duties,  interests,  trials  and  pleasures  of  life. 
The  industrious  wife  is  cheerfully  employed  with  her 
own  hands  in  domestic  duties,  putting  her  house  in 
order,  or  mending  her  husband's  clothes,  or  preparing 
the  dinner,  whilst,  perhaps,  the  little  darling  sits  prat- 


INFL  U ENOE  OF  MATRIMONY. 


425 


tling  on  the  floor,  or  lies  sleeping  in  the  cradle,  and 
every  thing  seems  preparing  to  welcome  the  happiest 
of  husbands,  and  the  best  of  fathers,  when  he  shall 
come  from  his  toil  to  enjoy  the  sweets  of  his  little  para- 
dise. This  is  the  true  domestic  pleasure.  Health, 
contentment,  love,  abundance,  and  bright  prospects, 
are  all  here.  But  it  has  become  a  prevalent  sentiment 
that  a  man  must  acquire  his  fortune  before  he  marries, 
that  the  wife  must  have  no  sympathy  nor  share  with 
him  in  the  pursuit  of  it,  in  which  most  of  the  pleasure 
truly  consists;  and  the  young  married  people  must  set 
out  with  as  large  and  expensive  an  establishment  as  is 
becoming  to  those  who  have  been  wedded  for  twenty 
years.  This  is  very  unhappy;  it  fills  the  community 
with  bachelors,  who  are  waiting  to  make  their  fortunes^ 
endangering  virtue  and  promoting  vice;  it  destroys  the 
true  economy  and  design  of  the  domestic  institution, 
and  inefficiency  among  females,  who  are  expecting  to 
be  taken  up  by  fortune  and  passively  sustained,  without 
any  care  or  concern  on  their  part;  and  thus  many  a 
wife  becomes,  as  a  gentleman  once  remarked,  not  a 
a help-mate,'1  but  a  " help-eat." 

The  Creator  found  that  it  was  not  good  for  man  to 
be  alone.  Therefore  he  made  woman  to  be  a  "help- 
meet for  him."  And  for  many  ages  history  has  shown 
that  "the  permanent  union  of  one  man  with  one  woman 
establishes  a  relation  of  affections  and  interests  which 
can  in  no  other  way  be  made  to  exist  between  two 
human  beings."  To  establish  this  relation  was  one  of 
the  great  designs  of  God  in  giving  the  rite  to  man ;  and 
by  establishing  this  relation,  marriage  becomes  to  him 


426 


INFLUENCE  OF  MATRIMON  Y. 


an  aid  in  the  stern  conflict  of  life.  This  it  is  in  a  theo- 
retical point  of  view.  This,  too,  it  has  often  proved  in 
practical  life.  Many  a  man  has  risen  from  obscurity  to 
fame,  who,  in  the  days  of  his  triumphant  victory,  has 
freely  and  gratefully  acknowledged,  that  to  the  sympa 
thy  and  encouragement  of  his  wife,  during  the  long 
and  weary  years  of  toil,  he  owed  very  much  of  his 
achieved  success. 

But  while  young  men  say  they  cannot  marry  because 
the  girls  of  this  generation  are  too  extravagant,  the 
fault  by  no  means  is  altogether  with  the  girls.  In  the 
first  place,  young  men  as  a  general  thing,  admire  the 
elegant  costumes  in  which  many  ladies  appear,  and  do 
not  hesitate  to  express  their  admiration  to  those  who 
are  more  plainly  dressed.  And  what  is  the  natural 
effect  of  this?  In  the  second  place  many  young  men 
are  too  proud  themselves  to  commence  their  married 
life  in  a  quiet,  economical  way.  They  are  not  willing 
to  marry  until  they  have  money  enough  to  continue  all 
their  own  private  luxuries,  and  also  support  a  wife  in 
style.  The  difficulty  is  not  altogether  on  either  side; 
but  if  both  men  and  women  would  be  true  to  the  best 
feelings  of  their  hearts,  and  careless  about  what  the 
world  would  say,  pure  and  happy  and  noble  homes 
would  be  more  abundant.  This  state  of  affairs  is  very 
unfortunate  for  both  parties.  It  leaves  woman  without 
a  home  and  without  protection  or  support.  Woman 
needs  the  strength  and  courage  of  man,  and  he  needs 
her  cheerfulness,  her  sympathy,  her  consolation.  Our 
papers  tell  us,  that  in  a  single  New  England  city,  there 
are  nearly  thirty  thousand  young  men,  already  engaged, 


AD  VANTAGE  OF  MATRIMONY. 


who  arc  putting  off  marriage  until  they  can  make 
enough  to  support  their  wives.  So  it  is  throughout 
the  country.  Young  men  need  the  restraining  and 
elevating  influences  of  home.  But  as  it  is  now  the 
man  must  commence  business  alone,  fight  his  own 
battles  without  sympathy  or  consolation,  win,  if  possible, 
by  years  of  arduous  toil,  a  competence;  and  when  the 
conflict  is  over,  the  toil  is  past  and  the  victory  is  won, 
then  he  can  have  a  wife  and  a  home.  A  man  to  suc- 
ceed well  in  life  needs  the  influence  of  a  pure-minded 
woman,  and  her  sympathy  to  sweeten  the  cup  of  life. 

Marriage  has  in  it  less  of  beauty,  but  more  of 
safety  than  the  single  life;  it  hath  no  more  ease,  but; 
less  danger;  it  is  more  merry  and  more  sad;  it  is  fuller 
of  sorrows  and  fuller  of  joys ;  it  lies  under  more  bur- 
dens, but  it  is  supported  by  all  the  strengths  of  love 
and  charity,  and  those  burdens  are  delightful.  Mar- 
riage is  the  mother  of  the  world,  and  preserves  king- 
doms, and  Alls  cities  and  churches,  and  heaven  itself. 
Celibacy,  like  the  fly  in  the  heart  of  an  apple,  dwells, 
in  perpetual  sweetness,  but  sits  alone,  and  is  confined 
and  dies  in  singularity;  but  marriage,  like  the  useful 
bee,  builds  a  house,  and  gathers  honey  from  every 
flower,  and  labors,  and  unites  into  societies  and  repub- 
lics, and  sends  out  colonies,  and  feeds  the  world  with- 


428 


AD  VANTAGE  OF  MATRIMONY, 


delicacies,  and  obeys  its  king,  and  keeps  order,  and  exer- 
cises many  virtues,  and  promotes  the  interests  of  man- 
kind, and  is  that  state  of  good  to  which  God  hath 
designed  the  present  constitution  of  the  world. 

If  you  are  for  pleasure,  marry;  if  you  prize  rosy 
health,  marry.  A  good  wife  is  heaven's  last  best  gift 
to  man;  his  angel  of  mercy;  minister  of  graces  innu- 
merable ;  his  gem  of  many  virtues ;  his  casket  of  jewels. 
Her  voice  his  sweetest  music;  her  smiles  his  brightest 
days ;  her  kiss  the  guardian  of  innocence ;  her  arms  the 
pale  of  his  safety,  the  balm  of  his  health,  the  balsam  of 
his  life;  her  industry  his  surest  wealth;  her  economy 
his  safest  steward;  her  lips  his  faithful  counselor;  her 
bosom  the  softest  pillow  of  his  cares;  and  her  prayers 
the  ablest  advocates  of  heaven's  blessings  on  his  head. 

Woman's  influence  is  the  sheet  anchor  of  society; 
and  this  influence  is  due  not  exclusively  to  the  fascina- 
tion of  her  charms,  but  chiefly  to  the  strength,  uni- 
formity, and  consistency  of  her  virtues,  maintained 
under  so  many  sacrifices,  and  with  so  much  fortitude 
and  heroism.  Without  these  endowments  and  quali- 
fications, external  attractions  are  nothing;  but  with 
them,  their  power  is  irresistible. 

Beauty  and  virtue  are  the  crowning  attributes  be- 
stowed by  nature  upon  woman,  and  the  bounty  of 
heaven  more  than  compensates  for  the  injustice  of  man. 
Sometimes  we  hear  both  sexes  repine  at  their  change, 
relate  the  happiness  of  their  earlier  years,  blame  the 
folly  and  rashness  of  their  own  choice,  and  warn  those 
whom  they  see  coming  into  the  world  against  the  same 
precipitance  and  infatuation.    But  it  is  to  be  remem- 


AD  VANTAGE  OF  MATRIMONY. 


42$ 


bered  that  the  days  which  they  so  much  wish  to  call 
back,  are  the  days  not  only  of  celibacy  but  of  youth? 
the  days  of  novelty  and  improvement,  of  ardor  and  of 
hope,  of  health  and  vigor  of  body,  of  gayety  and  light- 
ness of  heart.  It  is  not  easy  to  surround  life  with  any 
circumstances  in  which  youth  will  not  be  delightful; 
and  we  are  afraid  that  whether  married  or  unmarried, 
we  shall  find  the  vesture  of  terrestrial  existence  more 
heavy  and  cumbrous  the  longer  it  is  worn. 

Once  for  all,  there  is  no  misery  so  distressiul  as  the 
desperate  agony  of  trying  to  keep  young  when  one 
can't.  We  know  an  old  bachelor  who  has  attempted  it. 
His  affectation  of  youth,  like  all  affectations,  is  a  mel- 
ancholy failure.  He  is  a  rapid  young  man  of  fifty.  He 
plies  innocent  young  ladies  with  the  pretty  compliments 
and  soft  nothings  in  vogue  when  he  was  a  spooney 
youth  of  twenty.  The  fashion  of  talking  to  young 
ladies  has  changed  within  thirty  years,  you  know,  and 
this  aged  boy's  soft  nothings  seem  more  out  of  date 
than  a  two-year-old  bonnet.  They  make  you  think> 
somehow,  of  that  time-honored  frog-story,  wherein  is 
set  forth  the  discovery  of  galvanic  electricity.  When 
you  see  his  old-fashioned  young  antics — his  galvanic 
gallantry,  so  to  speak,  and  hear  the  speeches  he  makes 
'to  girls  in  their  teens,  when  he  ought  to  be  talking  to 
them  like  a  father — you  involuntarily  call  him  an  old 
idiot,  and  long  to  remind  him  of  that  quaint  rebuke  of 
grand  old  John:  "Thou  talkest  like  one  upon  whose 
head  the  shell  is  to  this  very  day."  That  is  how  he 
seems.  He  is  old  enough  to  have  been  almost  full- 
fledged  before  you  were  born,  and  here  he  is  trying  ta 


430 


YOUNG  31  EN  AND  MARRIAGE. 


make  believe  that  he  is  still  in  the  days  of  his  gosling- 
green,  with  the  shell  sticking  on  his  head  to  this  day! 
It  is  a  melancholy  absurdity.  One  can't  be  }7oung 
unless  one  is  young.  Only  once  is  it  given  to  us  to 
be  untried  and  soft,  and  gushing  and  superlative,  and 
when  the  time  comes  for  it  all  to  go,  no  sort  of  effort 
can  hold  back  the  fleeting  days. 

"I  wish  that  I  had  married  thirty  years  ago,'1  solil- 
oquized an  old  bachelor.  "Oh!  I  wish  a  wife  and  half 
a  score  of  children  would  start  up  around  me,  and 
bring  along  with  them  all  that  affection  which  we 
should  have  had  for  each  other  by  being  early  ac- 
quainted. But  as  it  is,  in  my  present  state  there  is 
not  a  person  in  the  world  I  care  a  straw  for;  and  the 
world  is  pretty  even  with  me,  for  I  don't  believe  there 
is  a  person  in  it  who  cares  a  straw  for  me." 


A  young  man  meets  a  pretty  face  in  the  ball-room, 
falls  in  love  with  it,  courts  it,  marries  it,  goes  tc  house- 
keeping with  it,  and  boasts  of  having  a  home  and  a 
wife  to  grace  it.  The  chances  are,  nine  to  ten,  that  he 
has  neither.  He  has  been  "taken  in  and  done  for!" 
Her  pretty  face  gets  to  be  an  old  story,  or  becomes 
faded,  or  freckled,  or  fretted,  and  as  the  face  was  all  he 
wanted,  all  he  paid  attention  to,  all  he  sat  up  with,  all 
he  bargained  for,  all  he  swore  to  love,  honor  and  pro- 


YOUNG  MEN  AND  MARRIAGE. 


431 


tect,  he  gets  sick  of  his  trade,  knows  of  a  dozen  faces 
he  likes  better,  gives  up  staying  at  home  evenings,  con- 
soles himself  with  cigars,  oysters  and  politics,  and  looks 
upon  his  home  as  a  very  indifferent  boarding-house. 

Another  young  man  becomes  enamored  of  a  "for- 
tune.71 He  waits  upon  it  to  parties,  dances  a  polka 
with  it,  exchanges  billet  doux  with  it,  pops  the  question 
to  it,  gets  accepted  by  it,  takes  it  to  the  parson,  weds 
it,  calls  it  "wife,"  carries  it  home,  sets  up  an  establish- 
ment with  it,  introduces  it  to  his  friends,  and  says  he, 
too,  is  married  and  has  got  a  home.  It  is  false.  He  is 
not  married;  he  has  no  home.  And  he  soon  finds  it 
out.  He  is  in  the  wrong  box;  but  it  is  too  late  to  get 
out  of  it ;  he  might  as  well  hope  to  get  out  of  his  coffin. 
His  friends  congratulate  him,  and  he  has  to  grin  and 
bear  it. 

If  a  young  man  would  escape  these  sad  consequences, 
let  him  shun  the  rocks  upon  which  so  many  have  made 
shipwreck.  Let  him  disregard,  totally,  all  considera- 
tions of  wealth,  beauty,  external  accomplishments, 
fashion,  connections  in  society,  and  every  other  mere 
selfish  and  worldly  end,  and  look  into  the  mind  and 
heart  of  the  woman  he  thinks  of  marrying.  If  he  can- 
not love  her  for  herself  alone — that  is,  for  all  that  goes 
to  make  up  her  character  as  a  woman — let  him  dis- 
regard every  external  inducement,  and  shun  a  marriage 
with  her  as  the  greatest  evil  to  which  he  could  be 
subjected.  And  if  he  have  in  him  a  spark  of  virtuous 
feeling — if  he  have  one  unselfish  and  generous  emo- 
tion— he  will  shun  such  a  marriage  for  the  woman's 


432 


YOUNG  MEN  AND  MARRIAGE. 


sake  also,  for  it  would  be  sacrificing  her  happiness  as 
well  as  his  own. 

From  what  is  here  set  forth  every  young  man  can 
see  how  vitally  important  it  is  for  him  to  make  his 
choice  in  marriage  from  a  right  end.  Wealth  cannot 
bring  happiness,  and  is  ever  in  danger  of  taking  to 
itself  wings;  beauty  cannot  last  long  where  there  is 
grief  at  the  heart;  and  distinguished  connections  are  a 
very  poor  substitute  for  the  pure  love  of  a  true  woman's 
heart. 

All  that  has  been  said  refers  to  the  ends  which  should 
govern  in  the  choice  of  a  wife.  Directions  as  to  the 
choice  itself  can  only  be  of  a  general  character,  for  the 
circumstances  surrounding  each  one,  and  the  particular 
circles  into  which  he  is  thrown,  will  have  specific 
influences,  which  will  bias  the  judgment  either  one  way 
or  another.  One  good  rule  it  will,  however,  be  well  to 
observe,  and  that  is,  to  be  on  your  guard  against  those 
young  ladies  who  seek  evidently  to  attract  your  atten- 
tion. It  is  unfeminine  and  proves  that  there  is  some- 
thing wanting  to  make  up  the  perfect  woman.  In 
retiring  modesty  you  will  be  far  more  apt  to  find  the 
virtues  after  which  you  are  seeking.  A  brilliant  belle 
may  make  a  loving,  faithful  wife  and  mother;  but  the 
chances  are  somewhat  against  her,  and  a  prudent  young 
man  will  satisfy  himself  well  by  a  close  observation  of 
her  in  private  and  domestic  life  before  he  makes  up  his 
mind  to  offer  her  his  hand. 

There  are  many,  too  many  finely  educated  young 
ladies  who  can  charm  you  with  their  brilliance  of  intel- 
lect, their  attainments  in  science  and  literature,  or  their 


YOUNG  MEN  AND  MAURI  AO  E.  43o 

music,  who  know  not  the  rudiments  of  how  to  make  a 
home  comfortable  and  inviting.  Some  will  frankly 
confess  it,  with  sorrow,  others  boast  of  this  ignorance 
as  something  to  be  proud  of.  How  many  such  women 
marry  and  make  an  utter  failure  of  life.  They  make  a 
wreck  of  their  husbands  happiness,  of  the  home  he 
had  doted  on,  of  his  -fortune,  and,  alas,  too  often  of  his 
character,  and  his  souPs  interest.  You  see  them 
abroad,  and  are  delighted  to  have  made  their  acquaint- 
ance, but  you  find  their  homes  slipshod  homes,  sadly 
contrasting  with  the  really  cultivated  manners  and 
mind  which  so  attracted  you. 

When  you  see  the  avaricious  and  crafty  taking  com- 
panions to  themselves  without  any  inquiry  but  after 
farms  and  money,  or  the  giddy  and  thoughtless  uniting 
themselves  for  life  to  those  whom  they  have  only  seen 
by  the  light  of  tapers;  when  parents  make  articles  for 
children  without  inquiring  after  their  consent;  when 
some  marry  for  heirs  to  disappoint  their  brothers,  and 
others  throw  themselves  into  the  arms  ©f  those  whom 
the}^  do  not  love,  because  they  have  found  themselves 
rejected  where  they  were  more  solicitous  to  please; 
when  some  marry  because  their  servants  cheat  them; 
some  because  they  squander  their  own  money;  some 
because  their  houses  are  pestered  with  company;  some 
because  they  will  live  like  other  people;  and  some 
because  they  are  sick  of  themselves,  we  are  not  so 
much  inclined  to  wonder  that  marriage  is  sometimes 
unhappy,  as  that  it  appears  so  little  loaded  with 
calamity,  and  cannot  but  conclude  that  society  hath 
something  in  itself  eminently  agreeable  to  human 
28 


434 


rQUNG  MEN  AND  MARRIAGE.  ' 


nature,  when  we  find  its  pleasures  so  great  that  even 
the  ill-choice  of  a  companion  can  hardly  overbalance 
them.  Those,  therefore,  of  the  above  description  that 
should  rail  against  matrimony  should  be  informed  that 
they  are  neither  to  wonder  nor  repine,  that  a  contract 
begun  on  such  principles  has  ended  in  disappointment. 
A  young  man  and  a  dear  friend  once  said  to  me,  "  I  am 
going  to  take  her  for  better  or  for  worse."  The 
remark  ran  over  me  like  a  chill  breath  of  winter.  I 
shuddered  at  the  thought.  "For  better  or  for  worse." 
All  in  doubt.  Going  to  marry,  yet  not  sure  he  was 
right.  The  lady  he  spoke  of  was  a  noble  young  woman, 
intellectual,  cultivated,  pious,  accustomed  to  his  sphere 
of  life.  They  were  going  to  marry  in  uncertainty. 
Both  were  of  fine  families;  both  excellent  young  peo- 
ple. To  the  world  it  looked  like  a  desirable  match. 
To  them  it  was  going  to  be  "for  better  or  for  worse." 
They  married.  The  woman  stayed  in  his  home  one 
year  and  left  it,  declaring  he  was  a  good  man  and  a 
faultless  husband,  but  not  after  her  heart.  She  stayed 
away  one  year  and  came  back ;  lived  with  him  one 
year  more  and  died.  Sad  tale.  It  proved  for  the 
worse,  and  all  because  they  did  not  know  each  other; 
if  they  had  they  would  not  have  married. 

Marriage  is  the  seal  of  man's  earthly  weal  or  woe. 
No  event  is  to  be  compared  with  this  for  its  interest 
and  its  immeasurable  results.  Why  are  so  many 
inhappy  in  this  union,  never  indeed  truly  married  ? 
Because  they  rush  into  its  sacred  temple,  either  de- 
luded or  unsanctified  by  God  and  good  principles. 
They  sin  in  haste,  and  are  left  to  repent  at  leisure. 


YOUNG  MEN  AND  MARRIAGE. 


435 


Custom,  convenience,  proximity,  passion,  vicious  novels, 
-silly  companions,  intoxicate  the  brain;  and  that  step  is 
taken  without  one  serious  thought,  which  death  only 
can  retrieve. 

Robert  Southey  says  :  "  A  man  may  be  cheerful  and 
contented  in  celibacy,  but  I  do  not  think  he  can  ever  be 
happy;  it  is  an  unnatural  state,  and  the  best  feelings  of 
his  nature  are  never  called  into  action.  The  risks  of 
marriage  are  for  the  greater  part  on  the  woman's  side. 
Women  have  so  little  the  power  of  choice  that  it  is  not 
perhaps  fair  to  say  that  they  are  less  likely  to  choose 
well  than  we  are ;  but  I  am  persuaded  that  they  are 
more  frequently  deceived  in  the  attachments  they  form, 
.and  their  opinions  concerning  men  are  less  accurate 
than  men's  opinion  of  their  sex.  Now,  if  a  lady  were 
to  reproach  me  for  having  said  this,  I  should  only  reply 
that  it  was  another  mode  of  saying  there  are  more 
good  wives  in  the  world  than  there  are  good  husbands, 
which  I  verily  believe.  I  know  of  nothing  which  a 
good  and  sensible  man  is  so  certain  to  find,  if  he  looks 
for  it,  as  a  good  wife. 

Who  marries  for  love  takes  a  wife;  who  marries  for 
the  sake  of  convenience  takes  a  mistress;  who  marries 
for  consideration  takes  a  lady.  You  are  loved  by  your 
wife,  regarded  by  your  mistress,  tolerated  by  your  lady. 
You  have  a  wife  for  yourself,  a  mistress  for  your  house 
and  its  friends,  and  a  lady  for  the  world.  Your  wife 
will  agree  with  you,  your  mistress  will  accommodate 
you,  and  your  lady  will  manage  you.  Your  wife  will 
take  care  of  your  household,  your  mistress  of  your 
house,  your  lady  of  appearance.    If  you  are  sick,  your 


436 


YOUNG  MEN  AN.D  MARRIAGE. 


wife  will  nurse  you,  your  mistress  will  visit  you,  and 
your  lady  will  inquire  after  your  health.  You  take  a 
walk  with  your  wife,  a  ride  with  your  mistress,  and 
join  partners  with  your  lady.  Your  wife  will  share 
your  grief,  your  mistress  your  money,  and  your  lady 
your  debts.  If  you  are  dead,  your  wife  will  shed  tears, 
your  mistress  lament,  and  your  lady  wear  mourning. 
A  year  after  death  marries  again  your  wife,  in  six 
months  your  mistress,  and  in  six  weeks  or  sooner,  when 
mourning  is  over,  your  lady. 

Men  and  women,  before  marriage,  are  as  figures  and 
cyphers.  The  woman  is  the  cypher  and  counts  for 
nothing  till  she  gets  the  figure  of  a  husband  beside  her, 
when  she  becomes  of  importance  herself  and  adds  ten- 
fold to  the  sum  of  his.  But  this,  it  must  be  observed, 
occurs  only  when  she  gets  and  remains  on  the  right 
side  of  him,  for  when  she  shifts  from  this  position,  he 
returns  to  his  lesser  estate,  and  she  to  her  original 
insignificance. 

Marriage  offers  the  most  effective  opportunities  for 
spoiling  the  life  of  another.  Nobody  can  debase,  har- 
rass  and  ruin  a  woman  so  fatally  as  her  own  husband, 
and  nobody  can  do  a  tithe  so  much  to  chill  a  man's 
aspirations,  to  paralyze  his  energies,  as  his  wife.  A 
man  is  never  irretrievably  ruined  in  his  prospects  until 
he  marries  a  bad  woman.  The  Bible  tells  us  that,  as 
the  climbing  a  sandy  way  is  to  the  feet  of  the  aged,  so 
is  a  wife  full  of  words  to  a  quiet  man.  A  cheerful 
wife  is  a  rainbow  in  the  sky  when  her  husband's  mind 
is  tossed  on  the  storms  of  anxiety  and  care.  A  good 
wife  is  the  greatest  earthly  blessing.    A  man  is  what 


YOUNG  LADIES  AND  MATRIMONY. 


437 


his  wife  makes  him.  It  is  the  mother  who  moulds  the 
character  and  destiny  of  the  child.  Make  marriage  a 
matter  of  moral  judgment.  Marry  in  your  own  reli- 
gion. Marry  into  a  different  blood  and  temperament 
from  your  own.  Marry  into  a  family  which  you  have 
long  known. 

Husbands  and  wives  of  different  religious  persuasions 
do  not  generally  live  happily.  When  the  spiritual 
influences  are  antagonistic,  the  conjugal  union  is  not 
complete,  for  it  lacks  the  unity  essential  to  the  fulfill- 
ment of  serious  obligations,  and  there  is  an  entire 
absence  of  that  sound  and  reciprocated  confidence  — 
that  mutual  faith,  which,  although  their  roots  be  in  the 
earth,  have  their  branches  in  the  sky  of  affection.  The 
subject  is  painful,  and  however  we  may  wound  the  sus- 
ceptibilities of  apparently  fond  lovers — we  say  appar- 
ently advisedly,  for  there  can  be  no  real  love  where 
there  is  "no  silver  chord  to  bind  it" — we  unhesitatingly 
express  the  opinion  that  marriages  between  persons 
who  do  not  thread  in  the  same  religious  path  are 
wholly  unadvisable — nay,  wrong — for  they  tend  to 
invite  a  future  teeming  with  shadows,  clouds,  and 
darkness. 


Many  a  young  lady  writes  to  say  that  she  has  had 
an  advantageous  offer  of  marriage.    The  man  who 


438  YOUNG  LADIES  AND  MATRIMONY. 


made  it  is  of  exemplary  character;  he  is  well  off  in 
this  world's  goods,  is  engaged  in  a  profitable  and 
reputable  business,  and  there  is  no  particular  reason 
why  she  should  not  accept  his  proposal;  but  she  does 
not  love  him.  In  our  judgment,  that  is  reason  enough. 
We  do  not  believe  in  marriage  without  love.  Respect- 
is  all  very  well,  and  that  one  should  have  anyway;  but 
it  does  not  take  the  place  of  affection.  It  is  said  that 
in  such  matches  love  comes  after  marriage.  We  have 
no  doubt  that  it  often  does.  But  we  think  love  should 
precede  as  well  as  follow  matrimony.  It  is  always 
liable  to  happen  to  one  who  has  never  loved.  But  sup> 
pose,  subsequent  to  marriage,  it  is  awakened  for  the 
first  time  in  a  wife,  and  the  object  happens  to  be  other 
than  the  husband — what  then?  This  is  a  contingency 
not  pleasant  to  contemplate.  No:  if  you  do  not  love^ 
then  do  not  marry.  Singleness  is  blessedness  compared 
to  marriage  without  affection.  The  connubial  yoke 
sits  easy  on  the  shoulders  of  love;  but  it  is  most  galling- 
without  this  one  and  only  sufficient  support. 

We  celebrate  the  wedding,  and  make  merry  over 
the  honeymoon.  The  poet  paints  the  beauties  and 
blushes  of  the  blooming  bride;  and  the  bark  of  mat- 
rimony, with  its  freight  of  untested  love,  is  launched 
on  the  uncertain  ocean  of  experiment,  amid  kind 
wishes  and  rejoicings.  But  on  that  precarious  sea 
are  many  storms,  and  even  the  calm  has  its  perils; 
and  only  when  the  bark  has  weathered  these,  and 
landed  its  cargo  in  the  haven  of  domestic  peace,  can 
we  pronounce  the  voyage  prosperous,  and  congratulate 
the  adventurer  on  his  merited  and  enviable  reward. 


YOUNG  LADIES  AND  MATR1M0N  Y  4  3  $ 

The  best  women  have  an  instinetive  wish  to  marry  a 
man  superior  to  themselves  in  some  way  or  other;  for 
their  honor  is  in  their  husbands,  and  their  status  in 
society  is  determined  by  his.  A  woman  who,  for  a. 
passing  fancy,  marries  a  man  in  any  way  her  inferior,, 
wrongs  herself,  her  family,  and  her  whole  life;  for  the 
"grossness  of  his  nature  "  will  most  probably  drag  her 
to  his  level.  Now  and  then  a  woman  of  great  force 
of  character  may  lift  her  husband  upward,  but  she- 
accepts  such  a  labor  at  the  peril  of  her  own  higher  life 
Should  she  find  it  equally  impossible  to  lift  him  to  her 
level  or  to  sink  to  his,  what  remains  ?  Life-long  regrets< 
bitter  shame  and  self-reproach,  or  a  forcible  setting  of 
herself  free.  '  But  the  latter,  like  all  severe  remedies^ 
carries  desperation,  instead  of  hope,  with  it.  Never 
can  she  quite  regain  her  maiden  place;  an  aura  of  a. 
doubtful  kind  fetters  and  influences  her  in  every  effort 
or  relation  of  her  future  life.  Or  a  young  woman  is 
smitten  with  a  pair  of  whiskers.  Curled  hair  never 
before  had  such  charms.  She  sets  her  cap  for  them;; 
they  take.  The  delighted  whiskers  make  an  offer,, 
proffering  themselves  both  in  exchange  for  one  heart.. 
My  dear  miss  is  overcome  with  magnanimity,  closes 
the  bargain,  carries  home  the  prize,  shows  it  to  pa  and 
ma,  calls  herself  engaged  to  it,  thinks  there  never  was 
such  a  pair  of  whiskers  before,  and  in  a  few  weeks  they 
are  married.  Married !  Yes,  the  world  calls  it  so,  and. 
so  we  will.  What  is  the  result?  A  short  honeymoon, 
and  then  the  discovery  that  they  are  as  unlike  as  chalk 
and  cheese,  and  not  to  be  made  one,  though  all  the 
priests  in  Christendom  pronounced  them  so. 


440 


YOUNG  LADIES  AND  UAT11IMOXY. 


Young  ladies  are  not  to  rely  upon  common  report, 
aor  the  opinion  of  friends,  nor  fashionable  acquaintances, 
but  upon  personal  knowledge  of  the  individual's  life 
and  character.  How  can  another  know  what  you 
want  in  a  companion  ?  You  alone  know  your  own 
heart.  If  you  do  not  know  it  you  are  not  fit  to  be 
married.  No  one  else  can  tell  what  tills  you  with 
pleasing  and  grateful  emotions.  You  only  know  when 
the  spring  of  true  affection  is  touched  by  the  hand  of  a 
a  congenial  spirit.  It  is  for  you  to  know  who  asks 
your  hand,  who  has  your  heart,  who  links  his  life  with 
yours.  If  you  know  the  man  who  can  make  true 
answer  to  your  souPs  true  love,  whose  soul  is  all 
kindred  with  yours,  whose  life  answers  to  your  ideal 
of  manly  demeanor,  you  know  who  would  make  you  a 
good  husband.  But  if  you  only  fancy  that  he  is  right, 
or  guess,  or  believe,  or  hope,  from  a  little  social  inter- 
change  of  words  and  looks,  you  have  but  a  poor 
foundation  on  which  to  build  hopes  of  future  happiness. 
Do  not,  as  you  value  life  and  its  comforts,  marry  a 
man  who  is  naturally  cruel.  If  he  will  wantonly  tor- 
ture a  poor  dumb  dog,  a  cat,  or  even  a  snake,  fly  from 
him  as  you  would  from  the  cholera.  We  would  sooner 
see  our  daughter  dying  of  cholera,  than  married  to  a 
cruel  hearted  man.  If  his  nature  delights  in  torture, 
he  will  not  spare  his  wife,  or  his  helpless  children. 
When  we  see  a  man  practicing  cruelty  on  any  poor, 
helpless  creature,  or  beating  a  fractious  horse  unmerci- 
fully, we  write  over  against  his  name,  '•devil,'"  and 
shun  him  accordingly. 

Do  not  marry  a  fop.    There  is  in  such  a  character 


YOUNG  LADIES  AND  MATRIMONY.  441 

nothing  of  true  dignity ;  nothing  that  commands  respect, 
or  ensures  even  a  decent  standing  in  the  community. 
There  is  a  mark  upon  him,  an  effected  elegance  of 
manner,  a  studied  particularity  of  dress,  and  usually  a 
singular  inanity  of  mind,  by  which  he  is  known  in 
every  circle  in  which  he  moves.  His  very  attitude  and 
gait  tell  the  stranger  who  he  is,  though  he  only  passes 
him  silently  in  the  street.  To  unite  your  destiny  with 
such  a  man,  we  hardly  need  say,  would  be  to  impress 
the  seal  of  disgrace  upon  your  character,  and  the  seal 
of  wretchedness  upon  your  doom. 

Look  with  disdain  on  what  are  called,  significantly, 
our  "fast  young  men;"  those  who  frequent  the  saloon 
and  bar-room,  to  drench  themselves  in  " fire-water;" 
who,  filled  with  conceit,  talk  large,  and  use  big-sound- 
ing oaths;  whose  highest  ambition  is  to  drive  a  fast 
horse,  to  swear  roundly,  and  wear  dashy  garments; 
who  affect  to  look  with  contempt  on  their  elders  and 
equals,  as  they  toil  in  some  honest  occupation,  and 
regard  labor  as  a  badge  of  disgrace. 

A  habit  of  industry  once  formed  is  not  likely  to  be 
ever  lost.  Place  the  individual  in  whatever  circum- 
stances you  will,  and  he  will  not  be  satisfied  unless  he 
can  be  active.  Moreover,  it  will  impart  to  his  charac- 
ter an  energy  and  efficiency,  and  we  may  add,  dignity, 
which  can  hardly  fail  to  render  him  an  object  of 
respect.  We  should  regard  your  prospects  for  life  as 
far  better  if  you  should  marry  a  man  of  very  limited 
property,  or  even  no  property  at  all,  with  an  honest 
vocation  and  a  habit  of  industry,  than  if  we  were  to 
see  you  united  to  one  of  extensive  wealth,  who  had 


442 


YOUNG  LADIES  AND  MATRIMONY. 


never  been  taught  to  exercise  his  own  powers,  and  had 
sunk  into  the  sensual  gratification  of  himself. 

Perhaps  no  foil)7  holds  so  strong  a  place  in  a  woman's 
mind  that  she  can  reclaim  the  one  she  loves  —  if  he  is 
a  little  fast  after  marriage,  he  will  settle  down  into  a 
just  and  sensible  husband.  History,  too,  often  repeats 
the  failure  of  such  beliefs;  it  is  delusive,  a  snare,  and 
the  young  woman,  after  the  marriage  vows  have  been 
recorded,  awakes  to  find  the  will  of  her  husband 
stronger  than  her  own,  too  selfish  for  an}7  control,  and 
her  life  begins  its  long  agony  of  misery.  We  say  to 
young  maidens,  be  warned  in  time;  can  \7ou  reclaim 
those  who  have  not  the  power  to  reclaim  themselves? 
Can  you  throw  away  your  pure  life  and  womanly  sym- 
pathies upon  wretches,  whose  moral  principles  cannot 
stand  the  slightest  examination,  and  whose  proffered 
love  is  but  a  temporary  symptom  of  their  changing 
heartlessness  ?  Beware,  beware !  the  deepest  rascal 
has  the  finest  clothes  and  the  smoothest  tongue.  Yet 
in  spite  of  all  the  wretchedness  of  drunkards'  wives, 
young  women  are  continually  willing  to  marry  men 
who  are  in  the  habit  of  indulging  in  the  social  glass! 
Ladies  often  refuse  the  marriage  offers  of  young  men 
because  they  are  too  poor,  or  of  too  humble  a  family, 
or  too  plain  in  person  or  manners.  But  only  now  and 
then  one  has  good  sense  enough  to  refuse  to  unite  her- 
self with  a  man  who  will  not  pledge  himself  to  total 
abstinence.  A  rich  and  fashionable  young  man  has 
commonly  no  trouble  to  get  a  wife,  even  though  he  is 
hardly  sober  long  enough  to  pronounce  the  marriage 
vow.     But  a  teetotaler  in  coarse  raiment  might  be 


YOUNG  LADIES  AND  MATRIMONY.  443 

snubbed  as  a  vulgar  fellow  who  has  never  seen  society. 
Ladies,  before  you  begin  to  scold  at  us  for  this  impious 
thing,  just  look  around  and  see  if  this  is  not  true.  A 
young  woman  that  marries  a  man  who  is  addicted  to* 
drinking  liquors  is  attaching  to  herself  but  a  dead 
weight  that  will  drag  her  down  with  himself  below  the 
level  of  the  brute.  Young  ladies,  as  life  is  precious  to> 
you,  and  since  you  value  it  highly,  take  no  such  chances.. 
Rather  than  marry  a  man  whom  you  know  to  drink,, 
only  now  and  then,  for  his  friends'  sake,  wait  a  while 
longer;  there  are  many  young  men  of  noble  character 
who  are  on  the  lookout  for  a  good  young  lady,  and. 
your  chances  are  not  to  be  despaired  of.  To  think  of 
redeeming  a  young  man  from  intemperance  is  simply 
folly.  To  him  your  efforts  to  keep  him  from  the  cup 
would  be  like  darning  a  river  with  a  feather,  or  like 
stopping  a  hurricane  with  a  tin  whistle. 

During  the  period  that  intervenes  between  forming 
an  engagement  and  consummating  the  connection,  let 
your  deportment  toward  the  individual  to  whom  you. 
have  given  your  affections  be  marked  by  modesty  and 
dignity,  respect  and  kindness.  Never,  on  the  one  hand,, 
give  him  the  least  reason  to  question  the  sincerity  of 
your  regard,  nor  on  the  other,  suffer  your  intercourse 
with  him  to  be  marked  by  an  undignified  familiarity 
Do  all  that  you  can  to  render  him  happy,  and  while  you 
will  naturally  grow  in  each  other's  confidence  and  affec- 
tion, you  may  reasonably  hope  that  you  will  be  helpers 
of  each  other's  joy,  in  the  most  endearing  of  all  human, 
relations. 


444 


LOVE. 


0ff, 


"  Oh  happy  state  !  when  souls  each  other  draw, 
When  love  is  liberty,  and  nature  law : 
All  then  is  full,  possessing  and  possess'd, 
No  craving  void  left  aching  in  the  breast : 
Even  thought  meets  thought,  ere  from  the  lips  it  part, 
And  each  warm  wish  springs  mutual  from  the  heart." 

Love  is  such  a  giant  power  that  it  seems  to  gather 
strength  irom  obstructions,  and  at  every  difficulty  rises 
to  higher  might.  It  is  all  dominant — all  conquering; 
a  grand  leveler  which  can  bring  down  to  its  own  uni- 
versal line  of  eqalization  the  proudest  heights,  and 
remove  the  most  stubborn  impediments:  "Like  death, 
it  levels  all  ranks,  and  lays  the  shepherd's  crook  beside 
the  scepter.""  There  is  no  hope  of  resisting  it,  for  it 
outwatches  the  most  vigilant — submerges  everything, 
acquiring  strength  as  it  proceeds;  ever  growing,  nay, 
growing  out  of  itself.  Love  is  the  light,  the  majest}' 
of  life;  that  principle  to  which,  after  all  our  struggling, 
and  writhing,  and  twisting,  all  things  must  be  resolved. 
Take  it  away,  and  what  becomes  of  the  world!.  It  is 
a  barren  wilderness!  A  world  of  monuments,  each 
standing  upright  and  crumbling;  an  army  of  gray 
stones,  without  a  chaplet,  without  a  leaf  to  take  off, 
with  its  glimpse  of  green,  their  flat  insipidity  and  offen- 
sive uniformity  upon  a  shrubless  plain.  Things  base 
and  foul,  creeping  and  obscure,  withered,  bloodless, 
and  brainless,  could  alone  spring  from  such  a  marble 
hearted  soil. 

Love's  darts  are  silver ;  when  they  turn  to  fire  in 


LOVE. 


445 


the  noble  heart,  they  impart  a  portion  of  that  heavenly 
flame  which  is  their  element.  Love  is  of  such  a  refin- 
ing, elevating  character,  that  it  expels  all  that  is  mean 
and  base;  bids  us  think  great  thoughts,  do  great  deeds, 
and  changes  our  common  clay  into  fine  gold.  It  illumi- 
nates our  path,  dark  and  mysterious  as  it  may  be,  with 
torchlights  lit  from  the  one  great  light.  Oh!  poor, 
weak,  and  inexpressive  are  words  when  sought  to 
strew,  as  with  stars,  the  path  and  track  of  the  expres- 
sion of  love's  greatness  and  power!  Dull,  pitiful,  and 
cold;  a  cheating,  horny  gleam,  as  stones  strung  by  the 
side  of  precious  gems,  and  the  far-flashing  of  the  spark- 
ling ruby  with  his  heart  of  fire!  The  blue  eyes  of 
turquoises,  or  the  liquid  light  of  the  sapphire,  should 
alone  be  tasked  to  spell  along,  and  character  our 
thoughts  of  love. 

The  loves  that  make  memory  happy  and  home 
beautiful,  are  those  which  form  the  sunlight  of  our 
earliest  consciousness,  beaming  gratefully  along  the 
path  of  maturity,  and  their  radiance  lingering  till  the 
shadow  of  death  darkens  them  all  together. 

But  there  is  another  love — that  which  blends  young 
hearts  in  blissful  unity,  and,  for  the  time,  so  ignores 
past  ties  and  affections,  as  to  make  willing  separation 
of  the  son  from  his  father's  house,  and  the  daughter 
from  all  the  sweet  endearments  of  her  childhood's 
home,  to  go  out  together,  and  rear  for  themselves 
an  altar,  around  which  shall  cluster  all  the  cares  and 
delights,  the  anxieties  and  sympathies,  of  the  family 
relationship;  this  love,  if  pure,  unselfish,  and  discreet, 
constitutes  the  chief  usefulness  and  happiness  of  human 


446 


LOVE. 


life.  Without  it,  there  would  be  no  organized  house- 
holds, and,  consequently,  none  of  that  earnest  endeavor 
for  competence  and  respectability,  which  is  the  main- 
spring to  human  effort;  none  of  those  sweet,  softening, 
restraining  and  elevating  influences  of  domestic  life, 
which  can  alone  fill  the  earth  with  the  glory  of  the 
Lord  and  make  glad  the  city  of  Zion;  This  love  is 
indeed  heaven  upon  earth;  but  above  would  not  be 
heaven  without  it;  where  there  is  not  love,  there  is 
fear;  but,  "love  casteth  out  fear."  And  yet  we  nat- 
urally do  offend  what  we  most  love. 

Love  is  the  sun  of  life;  most  beautiful  in  morning 
and  evening,  but  warmest  and  steadiest  at  noon.  It  is 
the  sun  of  the  soul.  Life  without  love  is  worse  than 
death;  a  world  without  a  sun.  The  love  which  does 
not  lead  to  labor  will  soon  die  out,  and  the  thankfulness 
which  does  not  embody  itself  in  sacrifices  is  already 
changing  to  gratitude.  Love  is  not  ripened  in  one 
day,  nor  in  many,  nor  even  in  a  human  lifetime.  It 
is  the  oneness  of  soul  with  soul  in  appreciation  and 
perfect  trust.  To  be  blessed  it  must  rest  in  that  faith 
in  the  Divine  which  underlies  every  other  emotion. 
To  be  true,  it  must  be  eternal  as  God  himself.  Zeno 
being  told  that  it  was  humiliating  to  a  philosopher  to 
be  in  love,  remarked:  "If  that  be  true,  the  fair  sex  are 
much  to  be  pitied,  for  they  would  receive  the  attention 
only  of  fools."  Some  love  a  girl  for  beauty,  some  for 
virtue,  and  others  for  understanding.  Goethe  says: 
"We  love  a  girl  for  very  different  things  than  under- 
standing. We  love  her  for  her  beauty,  her  youth,  her 
mirth,  her  confidingness,  her  character,  with  its  faults, 


LOVE, 


447 


caprices,  and  God  knows  what  other  inexpressible 
charms;  but  we  do  not  love  her  understanding.  Her 
mind  we  esteem  (if  it  is  brilliant),  and  it  may  greatly 
elevate  her  in  our  opinion;  nay,  more,  it  may  enchain 
us  when  we  already  love.  But  her  understanding  is 
not  that  which  awakens  and  inflames  our  passions." 

Love  is  blind,  and  lovers  cannot  see 

The  pretty  follies  that  themselves  commit. 

Remember  that  love  is  dependent  upon  forms;  cour- 
tesy of  etiquette  guards  and  protects  courtesy  of  heart. 
How  many  hearts  have  been  lost  irrecoverably,  and 
how  many  averted  eyes  and  cold  looks  have  been 
gained  from  what  seemed,  perhaps,  but  a  trifling  negli- 
gence of  forms.  Men  and  women  should  not  be  judged 
by  the  same  rules.  There  are  many  radical  differences 
in  their  affectional  natures.  Man  is  the  creature  of 
interest  and  ambition.  His  nature  leads  him  forth  into 
the  struggle  and  bustle  of  the  world.  Love  is  but  the 
embellishment  of  his  early  life,  or  a  song  piped  in  the 
intervals  of  the  acts.  He  seeks  for  fame,  for  fortune, 
for  space  in  the  world's  thoughts,  and  dominion  over 
his  fellow-men.  But  a  woman's  whole  life  is  a  history 
of  the  affections.  The  heart  is  her  world;  it  is  there 
her  ambition  strives  for  empire;  it  is  there  her  ambi- 
tion seeks  for  hidden  treasures.  She  sends  forth  her 
sympathies  on  adventure;  she  embarks  her  whole  soul 
in  the  traffic  of  affection;  and  if  shipwrecked  her  case 
is  hopeless,  for  it  is  bankruptcy  of  the  heart. 

Man's  love  is  of  man's  life  a  thing,  a  part ; 
'Tis  woman's  whole  existence. 


448 


LOVE. 


Woman  lotes  more  than  man  because  she  sacrifices 
more.  For  every  woman  it  is  with  the  food  of  the 
heart  as  with  that  of  the  body;  it  is  possible  to  exist 
on  a  very  small  quantity,  but  that  small  quantity  is  an 
absolute  necessit}7.  Woman  loves  or  abhors ;  man 
admires  or  despises.  Woman  without  love  is  a  fruit 
without  flavor.  In  love,  the  virtuous  woman  says  no; 
the  passionate  says  yes;  the  capricious  says  yes  and 
no;  the  coquette  neither  yes  nor  no.  A  coquette  is  a 
rose  from  whom  every  lover  plucks  a  leaf;  the  thorn 
remains  for  the  future  husband.  She  may  be  com- 
pared to  tinder  which  catches  sparks,  but  does  not 
always  succeed  in  lighting  a  match.  Love,  while  it 
frequently  corrupts  pure  hearts,  often  purifies  corrupt 
hearts.  How  well  he  knew  the  human  heart  who  said, 
"we  wish  to  constitute  all  the  happiness,  or  if  that 
cannot  be,  the  misery  of  the  one  we  love." 

Woman's  love  is  stronger  than  death ;  it  rises 
superior  to  adversity,  and  towers  in  sublime  beauty 
above  the  niggardly  selfishness  of  the  world.  Mis- 
fortune cannot  suppress  it;  enmity  cannot  alienate  it; 
temptation  cannot  enslave  it.  It  is  the  guardian  angel 
of  the  nursery  and  the  sick  bed ;  it  gives  an  affectionate 
concord  to  the  partnership  of  life  and  interest,  circum- 
stances cannot  modify  it;  it  ever  remains  the  same  to- 
sweeten  existence,  to  purify  the  cup  of  life  on  the 
rugged  pathway  to  the  grave,  and  melt  to  moral  plia- 
bilit}7  the  brittle  nature  of  man.  It  is  the  ministering 
spirit  of  home,  hovering  in  soothing  caresses  over  the 
cradle,  and  the  death-bed  of  the  household,  and  filling 
up  the  urn  of  all  its  sacred  memories. 


lo  ve.  449 

The  affection  that  links  together  man  and  wife  is  a 
far  holier  and  more  enduring  passion  than  the  enthusiasm 
of  young  love.  It  may  want  its  gorgeousness  —  it  may 
want  its  imaginative  character,  but  it  is  far  richer,  and 
holier,  and  more  trusting  in  its  attributes.  Talk  not  to 
us  of  the  absence  of  love  in  wedlock.  No!  it  burns 
with  a  steady  and  brilliant  flame,  shedding  a  benign 
influence  upon  existence,  a  million  times  more  precious 
and  delightful  than  the  cold  dreams  of  philosophy. 
Domestic  love  !  Who  can  measure  its  height  or  its 
depth?  Who  can  estimate  its  preserving  and  purifying 
power  ?  It  sends  an  ever  swelling  stream  of  life  through 
a  household,  it  binds  hearts  into  one  " bundle  of  life;" 
it  shields  them  from  temptation,  it  takes  the  sting  from 
disappointments  and  sorrow,  it  breathes  music  into  the 
voice,  into  the  footsteps,  it  gives  worth  and  beauty  to 
the  commonest  office,  it  surrounds  home  with  an  atmos- 
phere of  moral  health,  it  gives  power  to  effort  and 
wings  to  progress,  it  is  omnipotent.  Love,  amid  the 
other  graces  in  this  world,  is  like  a  cathedral  tower, 
which  begins  on  the  earth,  and,  at  first,  is  surrounded 
by  the  other  parts  of  the  structure;  but,  at  length, 
rising  above  buttressed  wall,  and  arch,  and  parapet,  and 
pinnacle,  it  shoots  spire-like  many  a  foot  right  into  the 
air,  so  high  that  the  huge  cross  on  its  summit  glows 
like  a  spark  in  the  morning  light  and  shines  like  a  star 
in  the  evening  sky,  when  the  rest  of  the  pile  is  enveloped 
in  darkness. 

He  who  loves  a  lady's  complexion,  form  and  features, 
loves  not  her  true  self,  but  her  soul's  old  clothes.  The 
love  that  has  nothing  but  beauty  to  sustain  it,  soon 
29 


450 


LOVE. 


withers  and  dies.  The  love  that  is  fed  with  presents 
always  requires  feeding.  Love,  and  love  only,  is  the 
loan  for  love.  Love  is  of  the  nature  of  a  burning  glass, 
which,  kept  still  in  one  place,  fireth;  changed  often,  it 
doth  nothing.  The  purest  joy  we  can  experience  in 
one  we  love,  is  to  see  that  person  a  source  of  happiness 
to  others.  When  you  are  with  the  person  loved,  you 
have  no  sense  of  being  bored.  This  humble  and  trivial 
circumstance  is  the  great  test  —  the  only  sure  and 
abiding  test  of  love.  With  the  persons  you  do  not 
love  you  are  never  supremely  at  your  ease.  You  have 
some  of  the  sensation  of  walking  upon  stilts.  In  con- 
versation with  them,  however  much  you  admire  them 
and  are  interested  in  them,  the  horrid  idea  will  cross 
your  mind  of  "What  shall  I  say  next?"  One  has  well 
said,  "In  true  love  the  burden  of  conversation  is  borne 
by  both  the  lovers,  and  the  one  of  them  who,  with 
knightly  intent,  would  bear  it  alone,  would  only  thus 
cheat  the  other  of  a  part  of  his  best  fortune."  When 
two  souls  come  together,  each  seeking  to  magnify  the 
other,  each  in  a  subordinate  sense  worshiping  the  other, 
each  helps  the  other;  the  two"  flying  together  so  that 
each  wing-beat  of  the  one  helps  each  wing-beat  of  the 
other — when  two  souls  come  together  thus,  they  are 
rovers.  They  who  unitedly  move  themselves  away 
from  grossness  and  from  earth,  toward  the  throne 
crystaline  and  the  pavement  golden,  are,  indeed,  true 
lovers. 


MATRIMONY. 


451 


It  is  pleasant  to  contemplate  the  associations  clus- 
tering around  the  wedding  morn.  It  is  the  happiest 
hour  of  human  life,  and  breaks  upon  the  young  heart 
like  a  gentle  spring  upon  the  flowers  of  earth.  It  is 
the  hour  of  bounding,  joyous  expectancy,  when  the 
ardent  spirit,  arming  itself  with  bold  hope,  looks  with 
undaunted  mien  upon  the  dark  and  terrible  future.  It 
is  the  hour  when  thought  borrows  the  livery  of  good- 
ness, and  humanity  looking  from  its  tenement,  across 
the  broad  common  of  life,  shakes  off  its  heavy  load  of 
sordidness,  and  gladly  swings  to  its  shoulders  the  light 
burden  of  love  and  kindness.  It  is  the  heart's  hour, 
full  of  blissful  contemplation,  rich  promises,  and  the 
■soul's  happy  revels.  We  cordially  echo  the  sentiment, 
u  Happy  morn,  garmented  with  the  human  virtues,  it 
shows  life  to  the  eye,  lovely,  as  if 

u  Clad  in  the  beauty  of  a  thousand  stars." 

Marriage  has  in  it  less  of  beauty,  but  more  of  safety 
than  the  single  life;  it  hath  no  more  ease,  but  less  dan- 
ger; it  is  more  merry  and  more  sad;  it  is  fuller  of 
sorrows  and  fuller  of  joys;  it  lies  under  more  burdens, 
but  it  is  supported  by  all  the  strengths  of  love  and 
charity,  and  those  burdens  are  delightful.  Marriage 
is  the  mother  of  the  world,  and  preserves  kingdoms, 
and  fills  cities  and  churches,  and  heaven  itself.  Celib- 
acy, like  the  fly  in  the  heart  of  an  apple,  dwells  in 
perpetual  sweetness,  but  sits  alone,  and  is  confined  and 


452 


MATRIMONY. 


dies  in  singularity;  but  marriage,  like  the  useful  beer 
builds  a  house,  and  gathers  honey  from  every  flower,, 
and  labors,  and  unites  into  societies  and  republics,  and, 
sends  out  colonies,  and  feeds  the  world  with  delicacies,, 
and  obeys  its  king,  and  keeps  order,  and  exercises 
many  virtues,  and  promotes  the  interests  of  mankind, 
and  is  that  state  of  good  to  which  God  hath  designed 
the  present  constitution  of  the  world. 

"Marriage  is  a  lottery,"  the  saying  goes,  and  there 
are  plenty  who  believe  it,  and  who  act  accordingly, 
and  for  such  it  is  well  if  they  do  no  worse  than  draw 
a  blank,  if  they  do  not  draw  a  life-long  misery  and 
pain.  But  marriage  is  not  necessarily  a  lottery,  either 
in  the  initial  choice  or  in  the  months  and  years  after 
the  marriage  day.  One  can  shut  his  eyes  and  draw, 
or  one  can  open  them  and  choose.  One  can  choose 
with  the  outward  eye  alone,  or  with  the  eye  of  intellect 
and  conscience.  Says  Jeremy  Taylor,  speaking  of 
marriages  where  physical  beauty  is  the  only  bond: 
"It  is  an  ill  band  of  affections  to  tie  two  hearts 
together  with  a  little  thread  of  red  and  white."  But 
let  us  choose  ever  so  wisely,  ever  so  deeply,  and  not 
we  ourselves  nor  the  minister  can  marry  us  completely 
on  the  wedding  da}'.  "A  happy  wedlock  is  a  long 
falling  in  love."  Marriage  is  very  gradual,  a  fraction 
of  us  at  a  time.  And  the  real  ministers  that  marry 
people  are  the  slow  years,  the  joys  and  sorrows  which 
they  bring,  our  children  on  earth  and  the  angels  they 
are  transfigured  into  in  heaven,  the  toils  and  burdens 
borne  in  company.  These  are  the  ministers  that  really 
marry  us,  and  compared  with  these,  the  ministers  who 


MATRIMONY. 


453 


go  through  a  form  of  words  some  day,  when  heaven 
and  earth  seem  to  draw  near  and  kiss  each  other,  are 
of  small  account.  And  the  real  marriage  service  isn't 
anything  printed  or  said;  it  is  the  true  heart  service 
which  each  yields  to  the  other,  year  in  and  year  out, 
when  the  bridal  wreath  has  long  since  faded,  and  even 
the  marriage  ring  is  getting  sadly  worn.  Let  this 
service  be  performed,  and  even  if  the  marriage  was 
a  lottery  to  begin  with,  this  would  go  far  to  redeem  it 
and  make  it  a  marriage  of  coequal  hearts  and  minds. 

When  the  honeymoon  passes  away,  setting  behind 
dull  mountains,  or  dipping  silently  into  the  stormy  sea 
of  life,  the  trying  hour  of  married  life  has  come. 
Between  the  parties  there  are  no  more  illusions.  The 
feverish  desire  for  possession  has  gone,  and  all  excite- 
ment receded.  Then  begins,  or  should,  the  business 
■of  adaptation.  If  they  find  that  they  do  not  love  one 
another  as  they  thought  they  did,  they  should  double 
their  assiduous  attentions  to  one  another,  and  be  jealous 
of  everything  which  tends  in  the  slightest  way  to  sepa- 
rate them.  Life  is  too  precious  to  be  thrown  away  in 
secret  regrets  or  open  differences.  And  let  me  say  to 
every  one  to  whom  the  romance  of  life  has  fled,  and 
who  are  discontented  in  the  slightest  degree  with  theii 
conditions  and  relations,  begin  this  reconciliation  at 
once.  Renew  the  attentions  of  earlier  days.  Draw 
your  hearts  closer  together.  Talk  the  thing  all  over. 
Acknowledge  your  faults  to  one  another,  and  determine 
that  henceforth  you  will  be  all  in  all  to  each  other;  and 
my  word  for  it,  you  shall  find  in  your  relation  the 
sweetest  joy  earth  has  for  you.    There  is  no  other  way 


454 


MATRIMONY. 


for  you  to  do.  If  3^011  are  happy  at  home,  you  must 
be  happ}'  abroad;  the  man  or  woman  who  has  settled 
down  upon  the  conviction  that  he  or  she  is  attached  for 
life  to  an  uncongenial  yoke-fellow,  and  that  there  is  no* 
way  of  escape,  has  lost  life;  there  is  no  effort  too  costly 
to  make  which  can  restore  to  its  setting  upon  the 
bosom  the  missing  pearl. 

It  is  a  great  thing  for  two  frail  natures  to  live  as  one 
for  life  long.  Two  harps  are  not  easity  kept  always  in 
tune,  and  what  shall  we  expect  of  two  harps  each  of  a 
thousand  strings?  What  human  will  or  wisdom  can- 
not do,  God  can  do,  and  his  Providence  is  uniting  ever 
more  intimately,  those  who  devoutly  try  to  do  the  work 
of  life  and  enjoy  its  goods  together.  For  them  there 
is  in  store  a  respect  and  affection;  a  peace  and  power 
all  unknown  in  the  hey-day  of  }7oung  romance.  Expe* 
rience  intertwines  their  remembrances  and  hopes  in 
stronger  cords,  and  as  they  stand  at  the  loom  of  time, 
one  with  the  strong  warp,  the  other  with  the  finer 
woof,  the  hand  of  Providence  weaves  for  them  a  tissue 
of  unfading  beauty  and  imperishable  worth. 

The  marriage  institution  is  the  bond  of  social  order> 
and,  if  treated  with  due  respect,  care,  and  discretion^ 
greatly  enhances  individual  happiness,  and  consequently 
general  good.  The  Spartan  law  punished  those  who 
did  not  marry;  those  who  married  too  late;  and  those 
who  married  improperly.  A  large  portion  of  the  evils 
that  have  defaced  the  original  organization  of  the 
patriarchal  age,  have  resulted  from  the  increase  of 
celibacy,  often  caused  by  the  imaginary  refinements  of 
the  upper  ten  thousand.    There  are  other  causes  that 


MATRIMONY. 


455 


have  stripped  the  marriage  institution  of  its  ancient 
simplicity,  and  rendered  its  pure  stream  turbid  in 
places.  Among  the  Patriarchs,  before  there  were  any 
rakes,  parents  never  interfered,  the  young  pair  made 
the  match,  and  the  girl  always  married  the  man  of  her 
choice,  an  indispensable  pre-requisite  to  a  happy  union. 
How  to  secure  happiness  to  married  life  is  the  question. 
Some  one  would  say,  "You  might  as  well  ask  to  find 
the  philosopher's  stone,  or  the  elixir  of  perpetual  youth , 
or  the  Eutopia  of  perfect  society!"  The  prime  diffi- 
culty in  the  case  is  the  entire  thoughtlessness,  the  want 
of  consideration,  common  sense  and  practical  wisdom. 
Not  only  young  persons  contemplating  marriage  — 
which  includes  all  between  the  age  of  eighteen  and 
thirty-five — but  also  many  married  people  have  a 
vague  notion  that  happiness  comes  of  itself.  They 
wait  for  certain  dreams  of  Elysium  to  be  fulfilled  by 
beatific  realities.  Happiness  does  not  come  of  its  own 
accord  nor  by  accident.  It  is  not  a  gift,  but  an  attain- 
ment. Circumstances  may  favor,  but  cannot  create  it. 
But  advice  to  those  who  stand,  or  mean  to  stand  by 
the  hymeneal  altar,  falls  upon  dull  ears,  and  every 
coupled  pair  flatter  themselves  that  their  experience 
will  be  better  and  more  excellent  than  that  of  any  who 
have  gone  before  them.  They  look  with  amazement 
at  the  tameness,  and  coldness,  and  diversities,  and: 
estrangements,  and  complainings,  and  dissatisfactions, 
which  spoil  the  comfort  of  so  many  homes,  as  at  things 
which  cannot,  by  any  possibility  fall  to  their  happier 
lot.  But  like  causes  produce  like  effects,  and  to  avoid 
the  misfortunes  of  others,  we  must  avoid  their  mistakes. 


45(3 


MATRIMONY. 


Love  on  both  sides,  and  all  things  equal  in  outward 
circumstances,  are  not  all  the  requisites  of  domestic 
felicity.  Human  nature  is  frail  and  multiform  in  its 
passions.  The  honeymoon  gets  a  dash  of  vinegar  now 
and  then,  when  least  expected.  Young  people  seldom 
court  in  their  every-day  clothes,  but  they  must  put 
them  on  after  marriage.  As  in  other  bargains,  but  few 
expose  defects.  They  are  apt  to  marry  faultless — love 
is  blind — but  faults  are  there  and  will  come  out.  The 
fastidious  attentions  of  wooing  are  like  spring  flowers, 
they  make  pretty  nosegays,  but  poor  greens.  Miss 
Darling  becomes  the  plain  house  wife,  and  Mr.  Allat- 
tention  the  informal  husband,  not  from  a  want  of 
esteem,  but  from  the  constitution  and  nature  of  man. 
If  all  these  changes,  and  more  than  would  answer  in 
wooing  time,  are  anticipated,  as  they  are  by  some 
analyzing  minds,  their  happiness  will  not  be  embittered 
by  them  when  they  come.  Bear  and  forbear,  must  be 
the  motto  put  in  practice. 

We  exhort  you,  who  are  a  husband,  to  love  your 
wife,  even  as  you  love  yourself.  Give  honor  to  her  as 
the  more  delicate  vessel;  respect  the  delicacy  of  her 
frame  and  the  delicacy  of  her  mind.  Continue  through 
life  the  same  attention,  the  same  manly  tenderness  which 
in  youth  gained  her  affections.  Reflect  that,  though 
her  bodily  charms  are  decayed  as  she  is  advanced  in 
age,  yet  that  her  mental  charms  are  increased,  and 
that,  though  novelty  is  worn  off,  yet  that  habit  and  a 
thousand  acts  of  kindness  have  strengthened  your 
mutual  friendship.    Devote  yourself  to  her,  and,  after 


MATRIMONY.  457 

the  hours  of  business,  let  the  pleasures  which  you  most 
highly  prize  be  found  in  her  society. 

We  exhort  }rou,  who  are  a  wife,  to  be  gentle  and 
condescending  to  your  husband.  Let  the  influence 
which  you  possess  over  him  arise  from  the  mildness  of 
your  manners  and  the  discretion  of  your  conduct. 
Whilst  vou  are  careful  to  adorn  your  person  with  neat 
and  clean  apparel — for  no  woman  can  long  preserve 
affection  if  she  is  negligent  in  this  point — be  still  more 
attentive  in  ornamenting  your  mind  with  meekness  and 
peace,  with  cheerfulness  and  good  humor.  Lighten  the 
cares  and  chase  away  the  vexations  to  which  men,  in 
their  commerce  with  the  world,  are  unavoidably 
exposed,  b}'  rendering  his  house  pleasant  to  your 
husband.  Keep  at  home,  let  your  employments  be 
domestic  and  your  pleasures  domestic. 

To  both  husband  and  wife  we  say,  "Preserve  a  strict 
guard  over  your  tongues,  that  you  never  utter  anything 
which  is  rude,  contemptuous,  or  severe;  and  over  }7our 
tempers,  that  you  never  appear  sullen  and  morose. 
Endeavor  to  be  perfect  yourselves,  but  expect  not  too 
much  from  each  other.  If  any  offense  arises,  forgive 
it;  and  think  not  that  a  human  being  can  be  exempt 
from  faults." 

In  conclusion  we  would  say,  that  marriage  is  one 
of  God's  first  blessings.  Although  it  involves  many 
weighty  responsibilities,  it  is  a  gem  in  the  crown  of  life. 
It  is  a  school  and  exercise  of  virtue;  and  though  mar- 
riage hath  cares,  yet  the  single  life  hath  desires  which 
are  more  troublesome  and  more  dangerous,  and  often 
end  in  sin,  while  the  cares  are  but  instances  of  duty  and 


458 


MATRIMONY. 


exercises  of  piety  ;  and,  therefore,  if  single  life  hath 
more  privacy  of  devotion,  yet  marriage  hath  more 
necessities  and  more  variety  of  it,  and  is  an  exercise  of 
more  graces.  Here  is  the  proper  scene  of  piety  and 
patience,  of  the  duty  of  parents  and  the  charity  of 
relatives;  here  kindness  is  spread  abroad,  and  love  is 
united  and  made  firm  as  a  center. 

Man  and  wife  are  equally  concerned  to  avoid  all 
offenses  of  each  other  in  the  beginning  of  their  con- 
versation :  every  little  thing  can  blast  an  infant  blossom,, 
and  the  breath  of  the  south  can  shake  the  little  rings 
of  the  vine,  when  first  they  begin  to  curl  like  the  locks 
of  a  new-weaned  boy;  but  when,  by  age  and  consolida- 
tion, they  stiffen  into  the  hardness  of  a  stem,  and  have? 
by  the  warm  embraces  of  the  sun  and  the  kisses  of 
heaven,  brought  forth  their  clusters,  they  can  endure 
the  storms  of  the  north  and  the  loud  noises  of  a  tem- 
pest, and  yet  never  be  broken:  so  are  the  early  unions 
of  an  unfixed  marriage;  watchful  and  observant,  jealous 
and  busy,  inquisitive  and  careful,  and  apt  to  take  alarm 
at  every  unkind  word.  After  the  hearts  of  the  man 
and  the  wife  are  endeared  and  hardened  by  a  mutual 
confidence  and  experience,  longer  than  artifice  and 
pretence  can  last,  there  are  a  great  many  remembrances,, 
and  some  things  present  that  dash  all  little  unkindnesses 
ii»  pieces. 


THE  CON  JUG  AI;  RELATION. 


459 


Have  you  taken  upon  yourselves  the  conjugal 
relation  ?  Your  high  and  solemn  duty  is  to  make 
each  oilier  as  happy  as  it  is  in  your  power.  The 
husband  should  have,  as  his  great  object  and  rule 
of  conduct,  the  happiness  of  the  wife.  Of  that  hap- 
piness, the  confidence  in  his  affection  is  the  chief 
element ;  and  the  proofs  of  this  affection  on  his  part, 
therefore,  constitute  his  chief  duty — an  affection  that 
is  not  lavish  of  caresses  only,  as  if  these  were  the  only 
demonstrations  of  love,  but  of  that  respect  which  dis- 
tinguishes love,  as  a  principle,  from  that  brief  passion 
which  assumes,  and  only  assumes,  the  name  —  a  respect 
which  consults  the  judgment,  as  well  as  the  wishes,  of 
the  object  beloved — which  considers  her  who  is  worthy 
of  being  taken  to  the  heart  as  worthy  of  being  admit- 
ted to  all  the  counsels  of  the  heart.  He  must  often 
forget  her,  or  be  useless  to  the  world;  she  is  most 
useful  to  the  world  by  remembering  him.  From  the 
tumultuous  scenes  which  agitate  many  of  his  hours,  he 
returns  to  the  calm  scene,  where  peace  awaits  him,  and 
happiness  is  sure  to  await  him;  because  she  is  there 
waiting,  whose  smile  is  peace ,  and  whose  very  presence 
is  more  than  happiness  to  his  heart. 

In  your  joy  at  the  consummation  of  your  wishes,  do 
not  forget  that  your  happiness  both  here  and  hereafter 
depends — O  how  much! — upon  each  other's  influence. 
An  unkind  word  or  look,  or  an  unintentional  neglect, 
sometimes  leads  to  thoughts  which  ripen  into  the  ruin 


460 


THE  CONJUGAL  RELATION. 


of  body  and  soul.  A  spirit  of  forbearance,  patience, 
and  kindness,  and  a  determination  to  keep  the  chain 
of  love  bright,  are  likely  to  develop  corresponding 
qualities,  and  to  make  the  rough  places  of  life  smooth 
and  pleasant.  Have  you  ever  reflected  seriousl}*  that 
it  is  in  the  power  of  either  of  you  to  make  the  other 
utterly  miserable?  And  when  the  storms  and  trials 
of  life  come,  for  come  they  will,  how  much  either  of 
you  can  do  to  calm,  to  elevate,  to  purify,  the  troubled 
spirit  of  the  other,  and  substitute  sunshine  for  the 
storm  ? 

We  cannot  look  upon  marriage  in  the  light  in  which 
many  seem  to  regard  it  —  merely  as  a  convenient  ar- 
rangement in  society.  To  persons  of  benevolence, 
intelligence,  and  refinement,  it  must  be  something 
more — the  source  of  the  greatest  possible  happiness 
or  of  the  most  abject  misery — no  half-way  felicit}7. 
You  have  not  had  the  folly  to  discard  common  sense. 
You  have  endeavored  to  study  charitably  and  carefully 
the  peculiarities  of  each  other's  habits,  dispositions,  and 
principles,  and  to  anticipate  somewhat  the  inconven- 
iences to  which  they  may  lead.  And  as  you  are  deter- 
mined to  outdo  each  other  in  making  personal  sacrifices, 
and  to  live  by  the  spirit  of  the  Savior,  you  have  laid  a 
foundation  for  happiness,  which  it  is  not  likely7  will  be 
shaken  by  the  joys  or  sorrows,  the  prosperity  or  adver- 
sity, the  riches  or  poverty,  or  by  the  frowns  or  flattery, 
of  the  world.  If  there  is  a  place  on  earth  to  which 
vice  has  no  entrance — where  the  gloomy  passions  have 
no  empire — where  pleasure  and  innocence  live  con- 
stantly together  —  where  cares  and  labors  are  delight- 


THE  CONJUGAL  RELATION. 


461 


fill — where  every  pain  is  forgotten  in  reciproeal  ten- 
derness— where  there  is  an  equal  enjoyment  of  the 
past,  the  present,  and  the  future  —  it  is  the  house  of  a 
wedded  pair,  but  of  a  pair  who,  in  wedlock,  are  lovers 
still. 

The  married  life,  though  entered  never  so  well,  and 
with  all  proper  preparation,  must  be  lived  well  or  it 
will  not  be  useful  or  happy.  Married  life  will  not  go 
itself,  or  if  it  does  it  will  not  keep  the  track.  It  will 
turn  off  at  every  switch  and  fly  off  at  every  turn  or 
impediment.  It  needs  a  couple  of  good  conductors  who 
understand  the  engineering  of  life.  Good  watch  must 
be  kept  for  breakers  ahead.  The  fires  must  be  kept 
up  by  a  constant  addition  of  the  fuel  of  affection.  The 
boilers  must  be  kept  full  and  the  machinery  in  order, 
and  all  hands  at  their  posts,  else  there  will  be  a  smash- 
ing up,  or  life  will  go  hobbling  or  jolting  along,  wearing 
and  tearing,  breaking  and  bruising,  leaving  some  heads 
and  hearts  to  get  well  the  best  way  they  can.  It 
requires  skill,  prudence,  and  judgment  to  lead  this  life 
well,  and  these  must  be  tempered  with  forbearance, 
charity,  and  integrity. 

The  }Toung  are  apt  to  hang  too  many  garlands  about 
the  married  life.  This  is  so  as  this  life  is  generally 
lived.  But  if  it  is  wisely  entered  and  truthfully  lived, 
it  is  more  beautiful  and  happy  than  any  have  imagined. 
It  is  the  true  life  which  God  has  designed  for  his 
children,  replete  with  joy,  delightful,  improving,  and 
satisfactory  in  the  highest  possible  earthly  degree.  It 
is  the  hallowxd  home  of  virtue,  peace,  and  bliss.  It  is 
the  ante-chamber  of  heaven,  the  visiting-place  of  angels, 


462 


THE  CONJUGAL  RELATION, 


the  communing  ground  of  kindred  spirits.  Let  all 
young  women  who  would  reap  such  joys  and  be  thus 
blessed  and  happy,  learn  to  live  the  true  life  and  be 
prepared  to  weave  for  their  brows  the  true  wife's 
perennial  crown  of  goodness. 

The  experience  of  an  excellent  lady  may  be  of 
benefit  to  some  reader,,  She  had  a  very  worthy  hus- 
band, whom  she  did  not  love  as  she  should.  The 
trouble  was  she  had  not  entirely  surrendered  herself  to 
him  until  after  she  had  been  very  ill.  She  says:  "I 
have  been  very  ill,  almost  dead.  Such  care  and  devo- 
tion as  I  have  had!  What  a  rock  my  heart  must  have 
been,  not  to  be  broken  before.  Day  and  night  my 
husband  has  watched  me  himself,  sleepless  and  tireless; 
nobody  else  could  do  so  much.  Now  I  know  what  love 
means.  My  husband  shall  never  say  again,  'Love  me 
more.'  He  shall  have  all  there  is  to  give,  and  I  think 
my  heart  is  larger  than  it  was  a  year  ago.  What  a 
thrill  of  joy  it  gives  me  when  I  catch  his  eye,  or  hear 
his  voice  or  step.  My  heart  runs  to  meet  him  and  my 
eyes  overflow  with  tears  of  happiness.  Flow  mean  and 
contemptible  it  seems  to  me  to  desire  the  attention  of 
other  men,  or  to  wish  to  go  anywhere  he  cannot 
accompany  me.  I  despise  myself  for  ever  thinking 
such  pleasures  desirable.  1  delight  to  say,  'My  hus- 
band, my  good,  noble,  generous,  forgiving  husband, 
keep  me  close  to  you.  That  is  all  the  happiness  I 
ask.'  I  know  now  that  all  the  trouble  was  the  result 
of  not  having  a  full,  complete  giving  up  of  myself, 
when  I  promised  to  be  a  wife — a  consecration  of  true 
love." 


TIIV  CONJUGAL  RELATION. 


463 


The  warmest-hearted  and  most  unselfish  women  soon 
learn  to  aceept  quiet  trust  and  the  loyalty  of  a  loving 
life  as  the  calmest  and  happiest  condition  of  marriage; 
and  the  men  who  are  sensible  enough  to  rely  on  the 
good  sense  of  such  wives  sail  round  the  gushing  adorers 
both  for  true  affection  and  comfortable  tranquility. 

Just  let  a  young  wife  remember  that  her  husband 
necessarily  is  under  a  certain  amount  of  bondage  all 
day;  that  his  interests  compel  him  to  look  pleasant 
under  all  circumstances,  to  offend  none,  to  say  no  hasty 
word,  and  she  will  see  that  when  he  reaches  his  own 
fireside  he  wants,  most  of  all,  to  have  this  strain 
removed,  to  be  at  ease;  but  this  he  cannot  be  if  he  is 
continually  afraid  of  wounding  his  wife's  sensibilities 
by  forgetting  some  outward  and  visible  token  of  his 
affection  for  her.  Besides,  she  pays  him  but  a  poor 
compliment  in  refusing  to  believe  what  he  does  not 
continually  assert,  and  by  fretting  for  what  is  unreason- 
able to  desire  she  deeply  wrongs  herself,  for 

"  A  woman  moved  is  like  a  fountain  troubled, 
Muddy,  ill-seeming,  thick,  bereft  of  beauty." 

Make  a  home;  beautify  and  adorn  it;  cultivate  all 
heavenly  charms  within  it;  sing  sweet  songs  of  love  in 
it ;  bear  your  portion  of  toil,  and  pain,  and  sorrow  in  it ; 
con  daily  lessons  of  strength  and  patience  there;  shine 
like  a  star  on  the  face  of  the  darkest  night  over  it,  and 
tenderly  rear  the  children  it  shall  give  you  in  it.  High 
on  a  pinnacle,  above  all  earthly  grandeur,  all  gaudy 
glitter,  all  fancied  ambitions,  -set  the  home  interests. 
Feed  the  mind  in  it;  feed  the  soul  in  it;  strengthen  the 


464 


THE  CONJUGAL  RELATION. 


love,  and  charity,  and  truth,  and  all  holy  and  good 
things  within  :t  ! 

When  young  persons  marry,  even  with  the  fairest 
prospects  they  should  never  forget  that  infirmity  is 
inseparably  bound  up  with  their  very  nature,  and  that, 
in  bearing  one  another's  burdens,  they  fulfill  one  of  the 
highest  duties  of  the  union.  Love  in  marriage  cannot 
live  nor  subsist  unless  it  be  mutual;  and  where  love 
cannot  be,  there  can  be  left  of  wedlock  nothing  but  the 
empty  husk  of  an  outside  matrimony,  as  undelightful 
and  unpleasing  to  God  as  any  other  kind  of  hypocrisy. 

We  have  all  seen  the  trees  die  in  summer  time. 
But  the  tree  with  its  whispering  leaves  and  swinging 
limbs,  its  greenness,  its  umbrage,  where  the  shadows 
he  hidden  all  the  day,  does  not  die.  First  a  dimness- 
creeps  over  its  brightness;  next  a  leaf  sickens  here  and 
there,  and  pales;  then  a  whole  bough  feels  the  palsy- 
ing touch  of  coming  death,  and  finally  the  feeble  signs 
of  sickly  life,  visible  here  and  there,  all  disappear,  and 
the  dead  trunk  holds  out  its  stripped,  stark  limbs,  a 
melancholy  ruin.  Just  so  does  wedded  love  sometimes 
die  Wedded  love,  girdled  by  the  blessings  of  friends, 
hallowed  by  the  sanction  of  God,  rosy  with  present 
joys,  and  radiant  with  future  hopes,  it  dies  not  all  at 
once.  A  hasty  word  casts  a  shadow  upon  it,  and  the 
shadow  darkens  with  the  sharp  reply.  A  little 
thoughtlessness  misconstrued,  a  little  unintentional  neg- 
lect deemed  real,  a  little  word  misinterpreted,  through 
such  small  avenues  the .  devil  of  discord  gains  admit- 
tance to  the  heart,  and  then  welcomes  all  his  infernal 
progeny.    The  presence  of  something  malicious  is  felt, 


HUSBAND  AXD  WIFE. 


465 


but  not  acknowledged ;  love  becomes  reticent,  con- 
fidence is  chilled,  and  noislessly  but  surely  the  work  of 
separation  goes  on,  until  the  two  are  left  as  isolated  as 
the  pyramids — nothing  left  of  the  union  but  the  legal 
form — the  dead  trunk  of  the  tree,  whose  branches 
once  tossed  in  the  bright  sunlight,  and  whose  sheltering 
leaves  trembled  with  the  music  of  singing  birds  now 
affords  no  shade  for  the  traveler. 

There  are  two  classes  of  disappointed  lovers — those 
who  are  disappointed  before  marriage,  and  the  more 
unhappy  ones  who  are  disappointed  after  it.  To  be 
deprived  of  a  person  we  love  is  a  happiness  in  com- 
parison of  living  with  one  we  hate. 


%m%m$k  ami  H9Ufe* 

Some  writer  asserts  that,  "  a  French  woman  will  lo  e 
her  husband  if  he  is  either  witty  or  chivalrous;  a  Ger- 
man woman,  if  he  is  constant  and  faithful;  a  Dutch 
woman,  if  he  does  not  disturb  her  ease  and  comfort 
too  much;  a  Spanish  woman,  if  he  wreaks  vengeance 
on  those  who  incur  his  displeasure;  an  Italian  woman, 
if  he  is  dreamy  and  poetical;  a  Danish  woman,  if  he 
thinks  that  her  native  country  is  the  brightest  and  hap- 
piest on  earth;  a  Russian  woman,  if  he  despises  all 
westerners  as  miserable  barbarians ;  an  English  woman, 
if  he  succeeds  in  ingratiating  himself  with  the  court 
30 


466 


HUSBAND  AND  WIFE. 


and  the  aristocracy;  an  American  woman,  if — he  has 
plenty  of  money." 

In  the  true  wife  the  husband  finds  not  affection  only, 
but  companionship  —  a  companionship  with  which  no 
other  can  compare.  The  family  relation  gives  retire- 
ment with  solitude,  and  society  without  the  rough 
intrusion  of  the  world.  It  plants  in  the  husband's 
dwelling  a  friend  who  can  bear  his  silence  without 
weariness;  who  can  listen  to  the  details  of  his  interests 
with  sympathy;  who  can  appreciate  his  repetition  of 
events  only  important  as  they  are  embalmed  in  the 
heart.  Common  friends  are  linked  to  us  by  a  slender 
thread.  We  must  retain  them  by  ministering  in  some 
way  to  their  interest  or  their  enjoyment.  What  a 
luxury  it  is  for  a  man  to  feel  that  in  his  home  there  is 
a  true  and  affectionate  being,  in  whose  presence  he 
may  throw  off  restraint  without  danger  to  his  dignity; 
he  may  confide  without  fear  of  treachery;  and  be  sick 
or  unfortunate  without  being  abandoned.  If,  in  the 
outer  world,  he  grows  weary  of  human  selfishness,  his 
he  xrt  can  safely  trust  in  one  whose  indulgences  over- 
loc  c  his  defects. 

The  treasure  of  a  wife's  affection,  like  the  grace  of 
God,  is  given,  not  bought.  Gold  is  power.  It  can 
sweep  down  forests,  raise  cities,  build  roads  and  deck 
houses.  It  can  collect  troops  of  flatterers,  and  inspire 
awe  and  fear.  But  alas  !  wealth  can  never  purchase 
love.  Bonaparte  essayed  the  subjugation  of  Europe, 
under  the  influence  of  a  genius  almost  inspired ;  an 
ambition  insatiable,  and  backed  by  millions  of  armed 
.men.    He  almost  succeeded  in  swaying  his  sceptre 


HUSBAND  AND  WIFE. 


407 


from  the  Straits  of  Dover  to  the  Mediterranean;  from 
the  Bay  of  Biscay  to  the  sea  of  AzofF.  On  many  a 
bloody  field  his  banner  floated  triumphantly.  But  the 
greatest  conquest  was  the  unbought  heart  of  Josephine ; 
his  sweetest  and  most  priceless  treasure  her  outraged 
but  unchanged  love.  If  any  man  has  failed  to  estimate 
the  affection  of  a  true-hearted  wife,  he  will  be  likely  to 
mark  the  value  in  his  loss  when  the  heart  that  loved 
him  is  stilled  by  death. 

Is  man  the  child  of  sorrow,  and  do  afflictions  and 
distresses  pour  their  bitterness  into  his  cup?  How  are 
his  trials  alleviated,  his  sighs  suppressed,  his  corroding 
thoughts  dissipated,  his  anxieties  and  pains  relieved, 
his  gloom  and  depression  chased  away  by  her  cheerful- 
ness and  love.  Is  he  overwhelmed  by  disappointment, 
and  mortified  by  reproaches?  There  is  one  who  can 
hide  her  eyes  even  from  his  faults,  and  who,  like  her 
Father  who  is  in  heaven,  can  forgive  and  love  "without 
upbraiding."  And  when  he  is  sickened  by  the  subtle- 
ties and  deception  of  the  world;  when  the  acrimony  of 
men  has  made  him  acrimonious  ;  when  he  becomes 
dissatisfied  with  himself,  and  all  around  him,  her  pleas 
ant  smile,  her  undissembled  tenderness,  her  artless 
simplicity,  "restore  him  to  himself,  and  spread  serenity 
and  sweetness  over  his  mind." 

Nothing  is  more  annoying  than  that  display  of  affec- 
tion which  some  husbands  and  wives  shDW  to  each 
other  in  society.  That  familiarity  of  touch,  those  half- 
concealed  caresses,  those  absurd  names,  that  prodi- 
gality of  endearing  epithets,  that  devoted  attention 
which  they  flaunt  in  the  face  of  the  public  as  a  kind  of 


468 


HUSBAND  AND  WIFE. 


challenge  to  the  world  at  large,  to  come  and  admire 
their  happiness,  is  always  noticed  and  laughed  at. 
Yet  to  some  women  this  parade  of  love  is  the  very 
essence  of  married  happiness,  and  part  of  their  dearest 
privileges.  They  believe  themselves  admired  and 
envied,  when  they  are  ridiculed  and  scoffed  at ;  and 
they  think  their  husbands  are  models  for  other  men  to 
copy,  when  they  are  taken  as  examples  for  all  to  avoid. 
Men  who  have  any  real  manliness,  however,  do  not 
give  in  to  this  kind  of  thing;  though  there  are  some  as 
effeminate  and  gushing  as  women  themselves,  who  like 
this  sloppy  effusiveness  of  love,  and  carry  it  on  to  quite 
old  age,  fondling  the  ancient  grandmother  with  gray 
hairs  as  lavishly  as  they  had  fondled  the  youthful 
bride,  and  seeing  no  want  of  harmony  in  calling  a 
withered  old  dame  of  sixty  and  upwards  by  the  pet 
names  by  which  they  had  called  her  when  she  was  a 
slip  of  a  girl  cf  eighteen.  This  public  display  of 
familiar  affection  is  never  seen  among  men  who  pride 
themselves  on  making  good  lovers,  as  certain  men  do* 
those  who  have  reduced  the  practice  of  love-making  to 
an  art,  a  science,  and  know  their  lesson  to  a  letter. 
These  men  are  delightful  to  women,  who  like  nothing 
so  much  as  being  made  love  to,  as  well  after  marriage 
as  before;  but  men  who  take  matters  quietly,  and  rely 
on  the  good  sense  of  their  wives  to  take  matters 
quietly,  too,  sail  round  these  scientific  adorers  for  both 
depth  and  manliness. 

Books  addressed  to  young  married  people  abound 
with  advice  to  the  wife  to  control  her  temper,  and 
never  to    utter   wearisome   complaints   or  vexatious 


HUSBAND  AND  WIFE. 


469 


words  when  the  husband  comes  home  fretful  or  unreas- 
onable from  his  out-of-door  conflicts  with  the  world. 
Would  not  the  advice  be  as  excellent  and  appropriate, 
if  the  husband  were  advised  to  conquer  his  fretfulness, 
.and  forbear  his  complaints,  in  consideration  of  his  wife's 
*  ill-health,  fatiguing  cares,  and  the  thousand  dishearten- 
ing influences  of  domestic  routine?  •  In  short,  whatso- 
ever can  be  named  as  loveliest,  best,  and  most  graceful 
in  woman,  would  likewise  be  good  and  graceful  in  man. 

O  husbands!  think  upon  your  duty.  You  who  have 
taken  a  wife  from  a  happy  home  of  kindred  hearts  and 
kind  companionship,  have  you  given  to  her  all  of  }7our 
time  which  you  could  spare,  have  you  endeavored  to 
make  amends  to  her  for  the  loss  of  these  friends? 
Have  you  joined  with  her  in  her  endeavors  to  open 
the  minds  of  your  children,  and  give  them  good  moral 
lessons  ?  Have  you  strengthened  her  mind  with  advice, 
kindness,  and  good  books?  Have  you  spent  your 
•evenings  with  her  in  the  cultivation  of  intellectual, 
moral,  or  social  excellence?  Have  you  looked  upon 
her  as  an  immortal  being,  as  well  as  yourself? 

There  is  a  picture,  bright  and  beautiful,  but  never- 
theless true,  where  hearts  are  united  for  mutual  happi- 
ness and  mutual  improvement;  where  a  kind  voice 
cheers  the  wife  in  her  hour  of  trouble,  and  where  the 
shade  of  anxiety  is  chased  from  the  husband's  brow 
as  he  enters  his  home;  where  sickness  is  soothed  by 
watchful  love,  and  hope  and  faith  burn  brightly.  For 
•such  there  is  a  great  reward,  both  here  and  hereafter, 
in  their  own  and  their  families'  spiritual  happiness  and 
growth,  and  in  the  blessed  scenes  of  the  world  of  spirits. 


470 


HUSBAND  AND  WIFE. 


And,  wives!  do  you  also  consult  the  tastes  and  dis- 
positions of  your  husbands,  and  endeavor  to  give  to 
them  high  and  noble  thoughts,  lofty  aims,  and  temporal 
comfort.  Be  ready  to  welcome  them  to  their  homes,, 
gradually  draw  their  thoughts  while  with  you  from 
business,  and  lead  them  to  the  regions  of  the  beautiful 
in  art  and  nature,  and  the  true  and  the  divine  in  senti- 
ment. Foster  a  love  of  the  elegant  and  refined,  and 
gradually  will  you  see  business,  literature,  and  high 
moral  culture  blending  in  "sweet  accord." 

Before  marriage,  a  young  man  would  feel  some 
delicacy  about  accepting  an  invitation  to  spend  an 
evening  in  company  where  his  "ladye  love"  had  not 
been  invited.  After  marriage,  is  he  always  as  partic- 
ular? During  the  days  of  courtship,  his  gallantry 
'  would  demand  that  he  should  make  himself  agreeable 
to  her;  after  marriage,  it  often  happens  that  he  thinks 
more  of  being  agreeable  to  himself.  Plow  often  it 
happens,  that  a  married  man,  after  having  been  away 
from  home  the  livelong  day,  during  which  the  wife  has 
toiled  at  her  duties,  goes  at  evening  again  to  some 
place  of  amusement,  and  leaves  her  to  toil  on  alone,, 
uncheered  and  unhappy!  How  often  it  happens  that 
her  kindest  offices  pass  unobserved,  and  unrewarded 
even  by  a  smile,  and  her  best  efforts  are  condemned 
by  the  fault-finding  husband!  How  often  it  happens, 
even  when  the  evening  is  spent  at  home,  that  it  is 
employed  in  silent  reading,  or  some  other  way,  that 
does  not  recognize  the  wife's  right  to  share  in  the 
enjoyments  even  of  the  fireside! 

Look,  ye  husbands,  for  a  moment,  and  remember 


HUSBAND  AND  WIFE. 


All 


what  your  wife  was  when  you  took  her,  not  from 
compulsion,  but  from  your  own  choice;  a  choice  based, 
probably,  on  what  you  then  considered  her  superiority 
to  all  others.  She  was  young — perhaps  the  idol  of 
her  happy  home;  she  was  gay  and  blithe  as  the  lark, 
and  the  brothers  and  sisters  at  her  father's  fireside 
cherished  her  as  an  object  of  endearment.  Yet  she 
left  all  to  join  her  destiny  with  yours,  to  make  }/our 
home  happy,  and  to  do  all  that  woman's  ingenuity 
could  devise  to  meet  your  wishes  and  to  lighten  the 
burdens  which  might  press  upon  you. 

The  good  wife!  How  much  of  this  world's  happi- 
ness and  prosperity  is  contained  in  the  compass  of  these 
two  short  words  !  Her  influence  is  immense.  The 
power  of  a  wife,  for  good  or  for  evil,  is  altogether 
irresistible.  Home  must  be  the  seat  of  happiness,  or  it 
must  be  forever  unknown.  A  good  wife  is  to  a  man 
wisdom,  and  courage,  and  strength,  and  hope,  and 
endurance.  A  bad  one  is  confusion,  weakness,  discom- 
fiture, despair.  No  condition  is  hopeless  when  the  wife 
possesses  firmness,  decision,  energy,  economy.  There 
is  no  outward  prosperity  which  can  counteract  indo- 
lence, folly,  and  extravagance  at  home.  No  spirit  can. 
long  resist  bad  domestic  influences.  Man  is  strong,  but 
his  heart  is  not  adamant.  He  delights  in  enterprise 
and  action,  but  to  sustain  him  he  needs  a  tranquil  mind 
and  a  whole  heart.  He  expends  his  whole  moral  force 
in  the  conflicts  of  the  world.  His  feelings  are  daily 
lacerated  to  the  utmost  point  of  endurance  by  perpetual 
collision,  irritation,  and  disappointment. 

Let  woman  know,  then,  that  she  ministers  at  the 


472 


HUSBAND  AMD  WIFE. 


very  fountain  of  life  and  happiness.  It  is  her  hand 
that  lades  out  with  overflowing  cup  its  soul-refreshing 
waters,  or  casts  in  the  branch  of  bitterness  which  makes 
them  poison  and  death.  Her  ardent  spirit  breathes  the 
breath  of  life  into  all  enterprise.  Her  patience  and 
constancy  are  mainly  instrumental  in  carrying  forward 
to  completion  the  best  human  designs.  Her  more 
delicate  moral  sensibility  is  the  unseen  power  which  is 
ever  at  work  to  purify  and  refine  society.  And  the 
nearest  glimpse  of  heaven  that  mortals  ever  get  on 
earth  is  that  domestic  circle  which  her  hands  have 
trained  to  intelligence,  virtue,  and  love,  which  her 
gentle  influence  pervades,  and  of  which  her  radiant 
presence  is  the  center  and  the  sun. 

Watching  those  on  the  sidewalk  on  the  way  to  labor, 
we  thought  we  could  read  a  great  deal  of  the  home- 
life  of  each  in  the  passing  glance  we  gave  as  they  went 
hurrying  by.  Here  was  one  whose  clothing  was  ragged 
and  neglected,  and  on  his  face  a  hard,  dissatisfied 
-expression.  It  was  easy  to  see  there  was  no  hope  in 
his  heart;  that  he  went  to  his  task  as  if  it  were  a 
penalty  imposed  for  crime,  and  that  no  pleasant  and 
loving  home  cheered  him  at  the  evening  and  lifted  from 
his  heart  the  clouds  that  darkened  his  life.  It  is  a 
terrible  thing  when  the  home  of  the  poor  lacks  love — 
the  only  agency  which  can  lighten  its  burdens  and 
make  it  hopeful  and  happy. 

Beside  him  walks  another — no  better,  but  much 
cleanlier  clad,  and  the  broad  patches  of  his  blue  over- 
alls are  cleanly  put  on  and  not  fringed  with  ragged 
edges.    He  has  a  home,  you  can  see  that  at  once,  and, 


HUSBAND  AND  WIFE. 


473 


humble  as  it  may  be,  there  is  a  woman  who  is  his 
confident  as  well  as  his  wife,  and,  together,  they  plan 
how  to  use  their  little  means  and  increase  their  little 
store  of  comforts.  They  have  ambition,  and  ambition 
to  improve  one's  condition  never  fails  to  give  force  to 
character  and  something  of  dignity  and  worth  to  life. 

Last  of  all,  though  this  consideration  be  not  the  least 
of  all,  let  it  be  remembered  that  the  husband  is  bound 
by  the  divine  law  to  treat  his  wife  as  an  immortal 
being,  and,  therefore,  to  have  regard  to  her  moral  and 
spiritual  welfare.  Can  any  man  have  a  just  sense  of 
the  truth  that  the  partner  of  his  heart,  the  sharer  of 
his  fortunes,  whose  earthly  destiny  is  so  closely  linked 
with  his  own,  is,  like  himself,  an  immortal  spirit;  that, 
after  the  scenes  of  time  shall  all  have  vanished  from 
her  view  like  a  gorgeous  dream,  she  must  enter  upon 
those  brighter  ones  that  shall  be  forever  expanding  in 
beatific  splendor,  or  else,  if  unprepared  for  them,  must 
dwell  in  those  gloomy  realms  which  our  Savior 
describes  as  "the  outer  darkness71  of  banishment  from 
God  and  happiness,  and  yet  cherish  no  lively  interest  in 
her  education  for  the  society  of  heaven?  In  that 
remarkable  hour  that  witnessed  the  formation  of  the 
marriage  union,  the  era  of  separation  was  anticipated 
by  the  solemn  vow  which  his  lips  then  uttered,  that  he 
would  cherish  the  object  of  his  choice  as  "the  wife  of 
liis  covenant"  in  wedded  love  "till  death  should  part 
them." 


474 


JOY. 


Joy  is  a  prize  unbought,  and  is  freest,  purest  in  its 
flow  when  it  comes  unsought.  No  getting  into  heaven 
as  a  place  will  compass  it.  You  must  carry  it  with 
you,  else  it  is  not  there.  You  must  have  it  in  you  as 
the  music  of  a  well-ordered  soul,  the  fire  of  a  holy  pur- 
pose. An  unchanging  state  of  joy  is  not  possible  on 
earth  as  it  now  is,  because  evil  and  error  are  here. 
The  soul  must  have  its  midnight  hour  as  well  as  its 
sunlight  seasons  of  joy  and  gladness.  Still  the  mercy 
of  the  Lord  is  shown  as  much  in  the  night  as  in  the 
day.  It  is  only  in  the  night  that  we  can  see  the  stars. 
The  noblest  spirits,  however,  are  those  which  turn  to 
heaven,  not  in  the  hour  of  sorrow,  but  in  that  of  joy; 
like  the  lark,  they  wait  for  the  clouds  to  disperse,  that 
they  may  soar  up  into  their  native  element. 

He  who  selfishly  hoards  his  joys,  thinking  thus  to 
increase  them,  is  like  a  man  who  looks  at  his  granary, 
and  says,  "Not  only  will  I  protect  my  grain  from  mice 
and  birds,  but  neither  the  ground  nor  the  mill  shall 
have  it."  And  so,  in  the  spring,  he  walks  around  his 
little  pit  of  corn,  and  exclaims,  "How  wasteful  are  my 
neighbors,  throwing  away  whole  handfuls  of  grain!" 
But  autumn  comes;  and,  while  he  has  only  his  few 
poor  bushels,  their  fields  are  yellow  with  an  abundant 
harvest.   "There  is  that  scattereth  and  yet  increaseth." 

Worldly  joy  is  like  the  songs  which  peasants  sing,, 
full  of  melodies  and  sweet  airs.  Christian  joy  has  its 
sweet  airs  too;  but  they  are  augmented  to  harmonies^ 


JOY. 


475 


so  that  he  who  has  it  goes  to  heaven,  not  to  the  voice 
of  a  single  flute,  but  to  that  of  a  whole  band  of  instru- 
ments, discoursing  wondrous  music.  Those  who  joy 
in  wealth  grow  avaricious;  those  who  joy  in  their 
friends  too  often  lose  nobility  of  spirit;  those  who  joy 
in  sensuousness  lose  dignity  of  character;  those  who 
joy  in  literature  ofttimes  become  pedantic;  but  those 
who  joy  in  liberty — i.  e.,  that  all  should  do  as  they 
would  be  done  by — possess  the  happiest  of  joys.  It 
is  a  solid  joy  no  one  can  barter  away.  Exceedingly 
few  possess  it. 

He  that  to  the  best  of  his  power  has  secured  the 
final  stake,  has  a  perennial  fountain  of  joy  within  him. 
He  is  satisfied  from  himself.  They,  his  reverse,  bor- 
row all  from  without.  Joy  wholly  from  without  is 
false,  precarious,  and  short.  From  without  it  may 
be  gathered;  but,  like  gathered  flowers,  though  fair 
and  sweet  for  a  season,  it  must  soon  wither  and  become 
offensive.  Jo}7  from  within  is  like  smelling  the  rose  on 
the  tree.  It  is  more  sweet  and  fair — it  is  lasting;  and, 
I  must  add,  immortal.  Happy  are  the  moments  when 
sorrow  forgets  its  cares,  and  misery  its  misfortunes; 
when  peace  and  gladness  spring  up  upon  the  radiant 
wings  of  hope,  and  the  light  of  contentment  dawns 
once  more  upon  the  disconsolate,  unfortunate,  and 
unhappy  heart. 

"  The  past  unsighed  for,  and  the  future  sure." 

There  is  in  this  world  continual  interchange  of 
pleasing  and  greeting  accidents,  still  keeping  their 
succession  of  times,  and  overtaking   each  other  in 


476 


BEAUTY. 


their  several  courses;  no  picture  can  be  all  drawn 
of  the  brightest  colors,  nor  a  harmon}7  consorted  only 
of  trebles;  shadows  are  needful  in  expressing  of  pro- 
portions, and  the  bass  is  a  principal  part  in  perfect 
music;  the  condition  here  alloweth  no  unmeddled  joy; 
our  whole  life  is  temperate  between  sweet  and  sour, 
and  we  must  all  look  for  a  mixture  of  both:  the  wise 
so  wish:  better  that  they  still  think  of  worse,  accept- 
ing the  one  if  it  come  with  liking,  and  bearing  the 
other  without  impatience,  being  so  much  masters  of 
each  other's  fortunes,  that  neither  shall  work  them  to 
excess.  The  dwarf  groweth  not  on  the  highest  hill, 
nor  the  tall  man  loseth  not  his  height  in  the  lowest 
valley;  and  as  a  base  mind,  though  most  at  ease,  will 
be  dejected,  so  a  resolute  virtue  in  the  deepest  distress 
is  most  impregnable. 

There  are  joys  which  long  to  be  ours.  God  sends 
ten  thousand  truths,  which  come  about  us  like  birds 
seeking  inlet;  but  we  are  shut  up  to  them,  and  so  they 
bring  us  nothing,  but  sit  and  sing  a  while  upon  the  roof 
and  then  fly  away 


Beauty  !  thou  pretty  plaything !  dear  deceit ! 
That  steals  so  softly  o'er  the  stripling's  heart, 
And  gives  it  a  new  pulse  unknown  before. 

We  doubt  not  that  God  is  a  lover  of  beauty.  He 
fashioned  the  worlds  in  beauty,  when  there  was  no  eye 


BEAUTY. 


477 


to  behold  them  but  his  own.  All  along  tne  wild  old 
forest  he  has  carved  the  forms  of  beauty.  Every 
cliff,  and  mountain,  and  tree  is  a  statue  of  beauty. 
Every  leaf,  and  stem,  and  vine,  and  flower  is  a  form  of 
beauty.  Every  hill,  and  dale,  and  landscape  is  a 
picture  of  beauty.  Every  cloud,  and  mist-wreath,  and 
vapor-vail  is  a  shadowy  reflection  of  beauty.  Every 
diamond,  and  rock,  and  pebbly  beach  is  a  mine  of 
beauty.  Every  sun,  and  planet,  and  star  is  a  blazing 
face  of  beauty.  All  along  the  aisles  of  earth,  all  over 
the  arches  of  heaven,  all  through  the  expanses  of  the 
universe,  are  scattered  in  rich  and  infinite  profusion  the 
life-gems  of  beauty.  All  this  great  realm  of  dazzling 
and  bewildering  beauty  was  made  by  God.  What 
shall  we  say  then,  is  he  not  a  lover  of  beauty? 

There  is  beauty  in  the  songsters  of  the  air.  The 
symmetry  of  their  bodies,  the  wing  so  light  and  expert 
in  fanning  the  breeze,  the  graceful  neck  and  head,  their 
tiny  feet  and  legs,  all  so  well  fitted  for  their  native 
element,  and  more  than  this,  their  sweet  notes  that 
awaken  delight  in  every  heart  that  loves  to  rejoice. 
Who  can  range  the  sunny  fields  and  shady  forests  on  a 
bright  summer's  day,  and  listen  to  the  melody  of  a 
thousand  voices  chanting  their  Maker's  praise,  and  not 
feel  the  soul  melt  with  joy  and  gratitude  for  such 
refreshing  scenes. 

The  universe  is  its  temple;  and  those  men  who  are 
alive  to  it  cannot  lift  their  eyes  without  feeling  them- 
selves encompassed  with  it  on  every  side.  Now  this 
beauty  is  so  precious,  the  enjoyments  it  gives  are  so 


47S 


BEAUTY. 


refined  and  pure,  so  congenial  with  our  tenderest  and 
noblest  feelings,  and  so  akin  to  worship,  that  it  is  painful 
to  think  of  the  multitude  of  men  as  living  in  the  midst 
of  it.  and  living  almost  as  blind  to  it  as  if,  instead  of 
this  fair  earth  and  glorious  sky,  they  were  tenants  of  a 
dungeon.  An  infinite  joy  is  lost  to  the  world  by  the 
want  of  culture  of  this  spiritual  endowment. 

The  highest  style  of  beauty  to  be  found  in  nature 
pertains  to  the  human  form,  as  animated  and  lighted 
up  by  the  intelligence  within.  It  is  the  expression  of 
the  soul  that  constitutes  this  superior  beauty.  It  is 
that  which  looks  out  at  the  eye.  which  sits  in  calm 
majesty  on  the  brow,  lurks  on  the  lip,  smiles  on  the 
cheek,  is  set  forth  in  the  chiselled  lines  and  features  of 
the  countenance,  in  the  general  contour  of  figure  and 
form,  in  the  movement,  and  gesture,  and  tone  :  it  is 
this  looking  out  of  the  invisible  spirit  that  dwells 
within,  this  manifestation  of  the  higher  nature,  that  we 
admire  and  love;  this  constitutes  to  us  the  beauty  of 
our  species.  Hence  it  is  that  certain  features,  not  in 
themselves  particularly  attractive,  wanting,  it  may  be, 
in  certain  regularity  of  outline,  or  in  certain  delicacy 
and  softness,  are  still  invested  in  a  peculiar  charm  and 
radiance  of  beauty  from  their  peculiar  expressiveness 
and  animation.  The  light  of  genius,  the  superior  glow 
of  sympathy,  and  a  noble  heart,  play  upon  those  plain, 
and  it  may  be.  homely  features,  and  light  them  up 
with  a  brilliant  and  regal  beauty.  Those,  as  every 
artist  know,  are  the  most  difficult  to  portray.  The 
expression  changes  with  the  instant.    Beauty  flashes, 


BEAUTY.  479 

and  is  gone,  or  gives  place  to  a  still  higher  beauty,  as 
the  light  that  plays  in  fitful  confiscations  along  the 
Northern  sky,  coming  and  going,  but  never  still. 

We  would  now  dwell  upon  the  beauty  of  spirit,  soul, 
mind,  heart,  life.  There  is  a  beauty  which  perishes 
not.  It  is  such  as  the  angels  wear.  It  forms  the 
washed  white  robes  of  the  saints.  It  wreathes  the 
countenance  of  every  doer  of  good.  It  adorns  every 
honest  face.  It  shines  in  the  virtuous  life.  It  molds 
the  hands  of  charity.  It  sweetens  the  voice  of  sym- 
pathy. It  sparkles  on  the  brow  of  wisdom.  It  flashes 
in  the  eye  of  love.  It  breathes  in  the  spirit  of  piety. 
It  is  the  beauty  of  the  heaven  of  heavens.  It  is  that 
which  may  grow  by  the  hand  of  culture  in  every 
human  soul.  It  is  the  flower  of  the  spirit  which  blos- 
soms on  the  tree  of  life.  Every  soul  may  plant  and 
nurture  it  in  its  own  garden,  in  its  own  Eden.  This  is 
the  capacity  for  beauty  that  God  has  given  to  the 
human  soul,  and  this  the  beauty  placed  within  the  reach 
of  us  all.  We  may  all  be  beautiful.  Though  our 
forms  may  be  uncomely  and  our  features  not  the  pret- 
tiest, our  spirits  may  be  beautiful.  And  this  inward 
beauty  always  shines  through.  A  beautiful  heart  will 
flash  out  in  the  eye.  A  lovely  soul  will  glow  in  the 
face.  A  sweet  spirit  will  tune  the  voice,  wreathe  the 
countenance  in  charms.  Oh,  there  is  a  power  in 
interior  beauty  that  melts  the  hardest  heart! 

Woman,  by  common  consent,  we  regard  as  the  most 
perfect  type  of  beauty  on  earth.  To  her  we  ascribe 
the  highest  charms  belonging  to  this  wonderful  element 
so  profusely  mingled  in  all  God's  works.    Her  form  is 


480 


BEAUTY. 


molded  and  finished  in  exquisite  delicacy  of  perfection. 
The  earth  gives  us  no  form  more  perfect,  no  features 
more  symmetrical,  no  style  more  chaste,  no  movements 
more  graceful,  no  finish  more  complete;  so  that  our 
artists  ever  have  and  ever  will  regard  the  woman-form 
of  humanity  as  the  most  perfect  earthly  type  of  beauty. 
This  form  is  most  perfect  and  symmetrical  in  the  youth 
of  womanhood;  so  that  youthful  woman  is  earth's 
queen  of  beauty.  This  is  true,  not  only  by  the  com- 
mon consent  of  mankind,  but  also  by  the  strictest  rules 
of  scientific  criticism. 

This  being  an  admitted  fact,  woman,  and  especially 
youthful  woman,  is  laid  under  strong  obligations  and 
exposed  to  great  temptations.  Beauty  has  wonderful 
charms.  A  charming  gift  of  pleasure.  Beauty  will 
not  only  win  for  her  admiring  eyes,  but  it  will  win  her 
favor;  it  will  draw  hearts  toward  her;  it  will  awaken 
tender  and  agreeable  feelings  in  her  behalf;  it  will 
disarm  the  stranger  of  the  peculiar  prejudices  he  often 
has  toward  those  he  knows  not;  it  will  pave  the  way 
to  esteem;  it  will  weave  the  links  to  friendship's  chain; 
it  will  throw  an  air  of  agreeableness  into  the  manners 
of  all  who  approach  her.  All  this  her  beauty  will  do 
for  her  before  she  puts  forth  a  single  effort  of  her  own 
to  win  the  esteem  and  love  of  her  fellows. 

Socrates  called  beauty  a  short-lived  tyranny;  Plato, 
a  privilege  of  nature;  Theophrastus,  a  silent  cheat; 
Theocritus,  a  delightful  prejudice ;  Cameades,  a  solitary 
kingdom;  Domitian  said,  that  nothing  was  more  grate- 
ful; Aristotle  affirmed,  that  beauty  was  better  than  all 
the  letters  of  recommendation  in  the  world;  Homer, 


BEAUTY. 


481 


that  it  was  a  glorious  gilt  of  nature;  and  Ovid  calls  it 
a  favor  bestowed  by  the  gods.  But,  as  regards  the 
elements  of  beauty  in  women,  it  is  not  too  much  to  say 
that  no  woman  can  be  beautiful  by  force  of  features 
alone;  there  must  be  as  well  sweetness  and  beauty  of 
soul.  Beauty  has  been  called  "the  power  and  aims  of 
woman."  Diogenes  called  it  "woman's  most  forcible 
letter  of  recommendation."  Caoneades  represented  it 
as  " a  queen  without  soldiers;"  and  Theocritus  says  it 
is  "a  serpent  covered  with  flowers;"  while  a  modern 
author  defines  it  "a  bait  that  as  often  catches  the  fisher 
as  the  fish."  Nearly  all  the  old  philosophers  denounced 
and  ridiculed  beauty  as  evanescent,  worthless  and  mis- 
chievous; but,  alas!  while  they  preached  against  it  they 
were  none  the  less  its  slaves.  None  of  them  were  able 
to  withstand  "the  sly,  smooth  witchcraft  of  a  fair 
young  face."  A  really  beautiful  woman  is  a  natural 
queen  in  the  universe  of  love,  where  all  hearts  pay  a 
glad  tribute  to  her  reign. 

Nothing  is  all  dark.  There  cannot  be  a  picture 
without  its  bright  spots;  and  the  steady  contemplation 
of  what  is  bright  in  others,  has  a  reflex  influence  upon 
the  beholder..  It  reproduces  what  it  reflects.  Nay,  it 
seems  to  leave  an  impress  even  upon  the  countenance. 
The  feature,  from  having  a  dark,  sinister  aspect,  be- 
comes open,  serene,  and  sunny.  A  countenance  so 
impressed,  has  neither  the  vacant  stare  of  the  idiot, 
nor  the  crafty,  penetrating  look  of  the  basilisk,  but  the 
clear  placid  aspect  of  truth  and  goodness.  The  woman 
who  has  such  a  face  is  beautiful.  She  has  a  beauty 
which  changes  not  with  the  features,  which  fades  not 
31 


482 


BEAUTY. 


with  years.  It  is  beauty  of  expression.  It  is  the  only 
kind  of  beauty  which  can  be  relied  upon  for  a  perma- 
nent influence  with  the  other  sex.  The  violet  will  soon 
cease  to  smile.  Flowers  must  fade.  The  love  that 
has  nothing  but  beauty  to  sustain  it  soon  withers  away. 
A  pretty  woman  pleases  the  eye;  a  good  woman,  the 
heart.  The  one  is  a  jewel,  the  other  a  treasure. 
Invincible  fidelity,  good  humor,  and  complacency 
of  temper,  outlive  all  the  charms  of  a  fine  face,  and 
make  the  decay  of  it  invisible.  That  is  true  beauty 
which  has  not  only  a  substance,  but  a  spirit;  a  beauty 
that  we  must  intimately  know  to  justly  appreciate. 

Beauty  has  been  not  unaptly,  though  perhaps  rather 
vulgarly,  defined  as  "all  in  my  eye,1'  since  it  addresses 
itself  solely  to  that  organ,  and  is  intrinsically  of  little 
value.  From  this  ephemeral  flower  spring  many  of 
the  ingredients  of  matrimonial  unhappiness.  It  is  a 
dangerous  gift  for  both  its  possessor  and  its  admirer. 
If  its  possession,  as  is  often  the  case,  turns  the  head, 
while  its  loss  sours  the  temper,  if  the  long  regret  of 
its  decay  outweighs  the  fleeting  pleasure  of  its  bloom, 
the  plain  should  pity  rather  than  envy  the  handsome. 
Beauty  of  countenance,  which,  being  the  light  of  the 
soul  shining  through  the  face,  is  independent  of  features 
or  complexion,  is  the  most  attractive  as  well  as  the 
most  enduring  charm.  Nothing  but  talent  and  amia- 
bility can  bestow  it,  no  statue  or  picture  can  rival  it, 
and  time  itself  cannot  destroy  it. 

Beauty,  dear  reader,  is  probably  the  woman  yow 
love  best,  but  we  trust  it  is  the  beauty  of  soul  and 
chlj|acter,  which  sits  in  calm  majesty  on  the  brow. 


MUSIC. 


483 


lurks  on  the  lip,  and  will  outlive  what  is  called  a  fine 
face. 

Man,  however,  is  not  the  highest  type  of  beauty;  for 
in  him,  as  in  all  things  on  earth,  is  mingled  along  with 
the  beauty  much  that  is  deformed — with  the  excellence 
much  imperfection.  We  can  conceive  forms  superior 
to  his — faces  radiant  with  a  beauty  that  sin  has  never 
darkened,  nor  passion  nor  sorrow  dimmed.  We  can 
conceive  forms  of  beauty  more  perfect,  purer,  brighter, 
loftier  than  anything  that  human  eyes  have  ever  seen. 
Imagination  fashions  these  conceptions,  and  art  pro- 
duces it.  This,  the  poet,  the  painter,  the  sculptor,  the 
architect,  the  orator,  each  in  his  own  way,  is  ever 
striving  to  do,  to  present,  under  sensible  forms,  the 
ideal  of  a  more  perfect  loveliness  and  excellence  than 
the  actual  world  affords.  This,  however,  cannot  be 
done  successfully,  as  perfection  of  beauty  dwells  alone 
with  God. 

"  When  griping  grief  the  heart  doth  wound, 
And  doleful  dumps  the  mind  oppress, 
Then  music,  with  her  silver  sound, 
With  speedy  help  doth  lend  redress." 

O  the  rapturous  charm  of  music  !  What  power  it 
has  to  softer,  melt,  enchain  in  its  spirit-chords  of  ^b- 
duing  harmony  !    Truly  there  is  power  in  music  }mn 


484 


MUSIC. 


-  almost  omnipotent  power.  It  will  tyrannize  over  the 
soul.  It  will  force  it  to  bow  down  and  worship,  it  will 
wring  adoration  from  it,  and  compel  the  heart  to  yield 
its  treasures  of  love.  Every  emotion,  from  the  most 
reverent  devotion  to  the  wildest  gushes  of  frolicsome 
joy,  it  holds  subject  to  its  imperative  will.  It  calls  the 
religious  devotee  to  worship,  the  patriot  to  his  country's 
altar,  the  philanthropist  to  his  generous  work,  the  free- 
man to  the  temple  of  liberty,  the  friend  to  the  altar  of 
friendship,  the  lover  to  the  side  of  his  beloved.  It 
elevates,  empowers,  and  strengthens  them  all.  The 
human  soul  is  a  mighty  harp,  and  all  its  strings  vibrate 
to, the  gush  of  music. 

Who  does  not  know  the  softening  power  of  music, 
especially  the  music  of  the  human  voice?  It  is  like  the  ' 
angel-whisperings  of  kind  words  in  the  hour  of  trouble. 
Who  can  be  angry  when  the  voice  of  love  speaks  in 
song?  Who  hears  the  harsh  voice  of  selfishness,  and 
brutalizing  passion,  when  music  gathers  up  her  pearly 
love-notes  to  salute  the  ear  with  a  stray  song  of  para- 
dise? Sing  to  the  wicked  man,  sing  to  the  disconso- 
late, sing  to  the  sufferer,  sing  to  the  old,  and  sing  to 
the  children,  for  music  will  inspire  them  all. 

The  human  voice  is  the  most  perfect  musical  instru- 
ment ever  made;  and  well  it  might  be,  for  it  had  the 
most  skillful  Maker.  The  voice  should  be  cultivated 
to  sing  the  tones  of  love  to  man  and  God.  Around 
the  fireside,  in  the  social  circle,  it  should  sing  the  voice 
of  love,  and  at  the  altar  of  God  it  should  pour  forth 
melodious  praise. 

How  sweet  does  it  make  the  worship  of  God  to  have 


MUSIC. 


485 


the  reverent  emotions  poured  out  in  song!  How  early 
should  children  be  taught  to  sing;  for  what  is  sweeter 
than  the  songs  of  innocent  childhood,  so  refining,  so 
refreshing,  so  suggestive  of  heaven?  Music  sweetens 
the  cup  of  bitterness,  softens  the  hand  of  want,  lightens 
the  burden  of  life,  makes  the  heart  courageous,  and  the 
soul  cheerfully  devout.  Into  the  soul  of  childhood  and 
youth  it  pours  a  tide  of  redeeming  influence.  Its  first 
and  direct  effect  is  to  mentalize  the  musical  performer; 
not  to  give  him  knowledge,  nor  more  wisdom  in  the 
practical,  business  affairs  of  life,  but  to  stir  his  mental 
being  to  activity,  to  awaken  strong  emotions,  to  move 
among  the  powers  within  as  a  common  electrifier, 
touching  here  with  tenderness,  there  with  energy,  now 
with  holy  aspiration,  and  anon  with  the  inspiring  thrill 
of  beauty.  It  breathes  like  a  miracle  of  inspiration 
through  the  soul,  to  elevate,  refine,  and  spiritualize. 
No  lethargy  can  exist  in  the  soul  that  is  pouring  forth 
a  tide  of  music  numbers.  Its  very  recesses  are  all 
astir.  Everything  within  becomes  active;  the  percep- 
tions acute,  the  affections  warm,  the  moral  sensibilities 
quick  and  sensitive.  When  we  think  how  much  the 
world  wants  awakening,  we  can  think  of  no  power 
better  calculated  to  do  it  than  that  which  dwells  in  the 
mysterious  melodies  of  music.  Let  every  body  become 
musicians,  and  surely  they  would  become  living  souls, 
Besides  music  being  powerful,  universal,  the  voice 
of  love,  and  the  type  of  the  infinite,  it  is  venerable  for 
its  age.  As  it  is  the  voice  of  God's  love,  we  know  not 
but  it  is  co-existent  with  His  being.  It  is  reasonable  to 
suppose  that  its  swelling  numbers  have  rolled  and  made* 


486 


MUSIC. 


heaven  vocal  with  its  strains  of  praise  since  creation 
dawned.  But  the  first  account  of  it  on  record  was  at 
the  laying  of  the  foundations  of  the  earth,  when  the 
"morning  stars,"  delighted  with  the  promise  of  a  new 
planet,  "sang  together,  and  all  the  sons  of  God  shouted 
for  joy,"  As  soon  as  the  earth  was  made,  its  rocky 
spires  thrown  up,  its  forest  harps  strung,  its  ocean 
organs  tuned,  it  raised  its  everlasting  anthem  to  swell 
the  chorus  of  the  skies. 

Every  song  soothes  and  uplifts.  It  is  just  possible 
that  at  times  a  song  is  as  good  as  a  prayer.  Indeed r 
a  song  of  the  pure  kind  recognized  in  Scripture,  is  akin 
to  a  petition,  which  it  is  also  in  the  spirit  of  thanks- 
giving. The  "sweet  singer  of  Israel"  wedded  his 
sincerest  prayers  to  melody  and  wafted  them  upward 
on  the  night  air  from  his  throbbing  heart.  In  the  soul 
that  has  been  touched  and  made  tender  by  the  fingers 
of  pain,  music  finds  a  place  where  it  may  murmur  its 
sweetest  chords. 

Music  is  healthful.  There  is  no  better  cure  for  bad 
humors,  and  no  medicine  more  pleasant  to  take.  We 
cannot  join  those  who  lament  that  the  piano  is  heard 
where  once  the  monotone  of  the  spinning-wheel,  and 
the  click  of  the  shuttle,  were  the  only  instrumental  per- 
formances. It  is  a  matter  of  rejoicing  rather  that 
muscles  of  iron  and  fingers  of  steel,  driven  by  the  tire- 
less elements,  now  perform  the  laborious  work  of  cloth 
manufacture  and  give  leisure  to  cultivate  refined  tastes 
in  the  household.  Music  is  to  the  ear  and  to  the  intel- 
lect what  strawberries,  peaches,  and  other  luscious 
fruits,  are  to  the  taste.    Who  regrets  that  the  forests 


MUSIC. 


487 


have  been  cleared,  the  walls  and  fences  built,  the  grain 
crops  made  sufficiently  easy  of  cultivation,  to  allow  the 
addition  of  the  fruit  yard  and  garden  for  the  enjo3'ment 
of  the  cultivator?  One  of  the  greatest  attractions  for 
old  End  young,  when  visiting  our  cities,  is  the  music 
tr^a:  may  be  heard  here.  Why  should  the  farmer's 
household  not  be  as  cheerful,  as  full  of  pleasure  as  that 
of  the  merchant  or  the  professional  man?  We  know 
of  nothing  more  genial  and  heart-warming  than  to 
hear  the  whole  family  joining  in  a  hymn  or  song.  They 
will  love  each  other  and  their  home  better  for  it.  Songs 
learned  in  childhood  are  like  birds  nestling  in  the 
bosom;  their  notes  will  be  heard  and  loved  in  after 
years.  The  hymn  sung  by  a  mother  to  her  little  boy 
may  in  after  days  be  a  voice  that  will  recall  him  from 
ruin. 

No  family  can  afford  to  do  without  music.  It  is  a 
luxury  and  an  economy;  an  alleviator  of  sorrow,  and  a 
spring  of  enjoyment;  a  protection  against  vice  and  an 
incitement  to  virtue.  When  rightly  used,  its  effects, 
physical,  intellectual  and  moral,  are  good,  very  good, 
and  onfy  good.  Make  home  attractive;  music  affords 
a  means  of  doing  this.  Contribute  kindly  feeling,  love. 
Music  will  help  in  this  work.  Keep  out  angry  feeling. 
"Music  hath  charms  to  soothe  the  savage  breast." 
Show  us  the  family  where  good  music  is  cultivated, 
where  the  parents  and  children  are  accustomed  often  to 
mingle  their  voices  together  in  song,  and  we  will  show 
you  one  where  peace,  harmony  and  love  prevail,  and 
where  the  great  vices  have  no  abiding  place. 

One  morning  the  sweet  voice  of  a  woman  was  heard 


488 


MUSIC. 


singing  a  ballad  in  one  of  the  tenement  house  districts 
of  the  Garden  City.  The  effect  of  it  was  almost 
magical.  Not  only  did  children  swarm  out  of  their 
dingy  homes  and  surround  the  singer,  but  the  stoops 
were  crowded  by  adults,  and  old  heads  leaned  out  of 
windows  for  several  blocks  on  either  side.  Faces 
brightened  everywhere.  The  blacksmith  ceased  his 
din  and  stood  with  arms  akimbo  on  the  sidewalk.  The 
poor,  sick  widow  in  a  near  tenement  listened  and  forgot 
her  sorrow  and  pain;  the  broad-faced  wife  whose  stolid 
countenance,  hardened  by  want  and  contact  with  vice, 
paused  from  her  employment,  and  as  she  listened  some- 
thing  touched  her  heart,  her  better  nature  was  stirred, 
and  beating  time  to  the  simple  melody,  wished  she  had 
a  penny  to  give  the  songster. 

The  hod-carriers  halted;  the  well-dressed  pedestrian, 
on  whose  face,  when  he  saw  the  crowd  gathering,  there 
was  at  first  a  look  of  disdain,  as  if  he  would  say,  "No 
hand-organ  music  for  me,  if  you  please,"  at  last  stood 
still  and  blushed,  as  the  beauty  of  the  song  stirred  his 
inmost  heart.  And  when  the  music  ceased,  the  listen 
ers  turned  again  to  their  employments,  as  if  refreshed 
in  spirits  and  quickened  to  contented  thoughts  of  the 
work-a-day  world. 

Music  means  not  merely  tunes  adapted  to  particular 
emotions  —  a  set  of  notes,  a  warbling  voice,  a  strain  of 
"melting  sweetness"  —  O!  no:  music  can  be  acted  as 
well  as  sung.  The  heart  may  make  music  when  the 
lips  are  dumb.  A  simple  word  may  be  full  of  music, 
and  stir  the  pulses  to  new  and  better  emotions,  the  soul 
to  higher  joys!    The  harmony  of  a  well  ordered  life 


489 


is  most  graceful  music;  the  tender  cares  and  caresses 
of  a  wife;  her  fond  solicitude  to  make  home  all  it 
should  be;  the  kindred  gentleness  and  affection  of  the 
husband;  the  quiet  and  ready  obedience  of  the  chil- 
dren—  all  these,  do  they  not  make  a  household  of 
music,  that  in  the  land  beyond  shall  be  chanted  by 
choirs  of  angels,  when  at  last  such  families  meet, 
unbroken  bands,  in  heaven? 

If  only  sound  were  music,  how  many  thousands 
would  be  denied  that  delightful  solace!  Some  there 
are  who  cannot  sing — and  yet  whose  natures  are 
finest  harps,  from  which  an  unheard  melody  (unheard 
by  mortal  ears)  is  continually  ascending.  Some  there 
are  who  cannot  even  speak,  nor  hear,  and  yet  their 
sympathies,  their  nice  comprehensions,  are  beautiful 
with  the  subtle  instinct  of  melody.  O !  tell  us  where 
music  is  not!  Now  we  hear  it  in  the  pensive  sound 
of  the  autumnal  winds  —  we  see  it  in  the  sparkling 
flow  of  the  bright  river;  we  hear  it,  as  it  were,  in  the 
morning  stars;  and  just  now  a  sweet  voice  uttered 
words  of  music.  It  is  in  all  the  elements;  the  flame 
hath  a  cheerful  hum  of  its  own,  and  the  crackling 
sparks  beat  time.  The  water  ripples  with  music;  the 
air  is  always  whispering  melody,  and  the  bountiful 
earth  ceases  never  its  songs  of  praise.  The  trickling 
rain-drops  sing  as  they  fall ;  the  crowded  leaves  answer 
to  the  pipes  of  the  birds;  the  sun  sets  the  day  to  sing- 
ing,  and  the  Almighty  hath  made  man  to  sing  songs 
of  praise  to  him,  throughout  all  eternity. 

But  the  world  needs  music  —  the  touching  domestic 
song  that  tells  in  few  words  the  loves,  the  trials,  or  the 


490 


HONOR. 


blisses  of  life — the  more  sacred  music  that  leads  the 
soul  to  communion  with  God  —  it  needs  music  —  its 
poor  cry  aloud  for  music;  they  are  tired  of  the  inhar- 
monious din  of  toil,  and  a  few  sweet  notes  brine:  with 
them  hours  of  pleasure  to  the  weary  and  world-forsaken. 


To  be  ambitious  of  true  honor,  of  the  true  glory 
and  perfection  of  our  natures,  is  the  very  principle  and 
incentive  of  virtue;  but  to  be  ambitious  of  titles,  of 
place,  of  ceremonial  respects  and  civil  pageantry,  is  as 
vain  and  little  as  the  things  we  court. 

True  honor,  as  defined  by  Cicero,  is  the  concur- 
rent approbation  of  good  men;  those  only  being  fit  to 
give  true  praise  who  are  themselves  praiseworthy. 
Anciently  the  Romans  worshiped  virtue  and  honor  as 
gods  ;  they  built  two  temples,  which  were  so  seated 
that  none  could  enter  the  temple  of  honor  without 
passing  through  the  temple  of  virtue. 

The  way  to  be  truly  honored  is  to  be  illustriously 
good.  Maximilian,  the  German  emperor,  replied  to 
one  who  desired  his  letters  patent  to  ennoble  him, 
saying,  I  am  able  to  make  you  rich;  but  virtue  must 
make  you  noble.  Who  would  not  desire  the  honor 
that  Agesiaus,  king  of  Sparta,  had,  who  was  fined  b}' 
the  Sphori  for  having  stolen  away  all  the  hearts  of  the 


HONOR. 


49{ 


people  to  himself  alone?  Of  whom  it  is  said  that  he 
ruled  his  country  by  obeying  it.  It  is  with  glory  as 
with  beauty ;  for  as  a  single  fine  lineament  cannot 
make  a  fine  face,  neither  can  a  single  good  quality 
render  a  man  accomplished ;  but  a  concurrence  of  many 
fine  features  and  good  qualities  make  true  beauty  and 
true  honor. 

The  Athenians  raised  \  noble  statue  to  the  memory 
of  ^Esop,  and  placed  a  slave  on  a  pedestal,  that  men 
might  know  the  way  to  honor  was  open  to  all.  The 
man  of  honor  is  internal,  the  person  of  honor  an 
external;  the  one  a  real,  the  other  a  fictitious  charac- 
ter. A  person  of  honor  may  be  a  profane  libertine, 
penurious,  proud,  may  insult  his  inferiors,  and  defraud 
his  creditors;  but  it  is  impossible  for  a  man  of  honor 
to  be  guilty  of  any  of  these. 

Among  the  ancient  Greeks  and  Romans,  in  their 
best  days,  honor  was  more  sought  after  than  wealth. 
Times  are  changed.  Now,  wealth  is  the  surest  pass- 
port to  honor ;  and  respectability  is  endangered  by 
poverty.  "Rome,  was  Rome  no  more"  when  the 
imperial  purple  had  become  an  article  of  traffic,  and 
when  gold  could  purchase  with  ease  the  honors  that 
patriotism  and  valor  could  once  secure  only  with 
difficulty. 

There  is  no  true  glory,  no  true  greatness,  without 
virtue;  without  which  we  do  but  abuse  all  the  good 
things  we  have,  whether  they  be  great,  or  little,  false 
or  real.  Riches  make  us  either  covetous  or  prodigal; 
fine  palaces  make  us  despise  the  poor  and  poverty;  a 
great  number  of  domestics  flatter  human  pride,  which 


492 


0ENIU8  AND  TALENT.. 


uses  them  like  slaves ;  valor  oftentimes  turns  brutal 
and  unjust;  and  a  high  pedigree  makes  a  man  take  up 
with  the  virtues  of  his  ancestors,  without  endeavoring 
to  acquire  any  himself 

It  is  a  fatal  and  delusive  ambition  which  allures 
many  to  the  pursuit  of  honors  as  suck1  or  as  accessions 
to  some  greater  object  in  view.  The  substance  is 
dropped  to  catch  the  shade,  and  the  much  coveted 
distinctions,  in  nine  cases  our  of  ten,  prove  to  be  mere 
airy  phantasms  and  gilded  mists.  Real  honor  and  real 
esteem  are  not  difficult  to  be  obtained  in  the  world,  but 
they  are  best  won  by  actual  worth  and  merit,  rather 
than  by  art  and  intrigue  which  run  a  long  and  ruinous 
race,  and  seldom  seize  upon  the  prize  at  last.  Seek 
not  to  be  honored  in  any  way  save  in  thine  own  bosom, 
within  thyself. 

"Honor  and  shame  from  no  condition  rise: 
Act  well  your  part,  there  all  the  honor  lies." 


Genius  is  of  the  soul,  talent  of  the  understanding; 
genius  is  warm,  talent  is  passionless.  Without  genius 
there  is  no  intuition,  no  inspiration;  without  talent,  no 
execution.  Genius  is  interior,  talent  exterior;  hence 
genius  is  productive,  talent  accumulative  Genius 
invents,  talent  accomplishes.    Genius  gives  the  sub- 


GENIUS  AND  TALENT. 


493 


stance,  talent  works  it  up  under  the  eye,  or  rather 
under  the  feeling,  of  genius. 

Genius  is  that  quality  or  character  of  the  mind  which 
is  inventive,  or  generates;  which  gives  to  the  world 
new  ideas  in  science,  art,  literature,  morals,  or  religion, 
which  recognizes  no  set  rules  or  principles,  but  is  a  law 
unto  itself,  and  rejoices  in  its  own  originality;  which 
admitting  of  a  direction,  never  follows  the  old  beaten 
track,  but  strikes  out  for  a  new  course;  which  has  no 
fears  of  public  opinion,  nor  leans  upon  public  favor — ■ 
always  leads  but  never  follows,  which  admits  no  truth 
unless  convinced  by  experiment,  reflection,  or  investi- 
gation, and  never  bows  to  the  ipse  dixit  of  any  man, 
or  society,  or  creed. 

Talent  is  that  power  or  capacity  of  mind  which 
reasons  rapidly  from  cause  to  effect ;  which  sees  through 
a  thing  at  a  glance,  and  comprehends  the  rules  and 
principles  upon  which  it  works;  which  can  take  in 
knowledge  without  laborious  mental  study,  and  needs 
no  labored  illustrations  to  impress  a  principle  or  a  fact, 
no  matter  how  abstruse,  hidden,  complex,  or  intricate. 
Differing  from  genius  by  following  rules  and  principles, 
but  capable  of  comprehending  the  works  of  genius  — 
imitating  with  ease,  and  thereby  claiming  a  certain 
kind  of  originality,  talent  is  the  able,  comprehensive 
agent;  while  genius  is  the  master  director. 

Genius  is  emotional,  talent  intellectual;  hence  genius 
is  creative,  and  talent  instrumental.  Genius  has  insight, 
talent  only  outsight.  Genius  is  always  calm,  reserved, 
self-centered;  talent  is  often  bustling,  officious,  confi- 
dent.   Genius  is  rather  inward,  creative,  and  angelic; 


434 


GENIUS  AND  TALENT. 


talent,  outward,  practical,  and  worldly.  Genius  dis- 
dains and  defies  imitation;  talent  is  often  the  result 
of  universal  imitation  in  respect  to  everything  that 
may  contribute  to  the  desired  excellence.  Genius  has 
quick  and  strong  sympathies,  and  is  sometimes  given 
to  reverie  and  vision;  talent  is  cool  and  wise,  and  sel- 
dom loses  sight  of  common  sense.  Genius  is  born  for 
a  particular  purpose,  in  which  it  surpasses;  talent  is 
versatile,  and  may  make  a  respectable  figure  at  almost 
anything.  Genius  gives  the  impulse  and  aim  as  well 
as  the  illumination;  talent  the  means  and  implements. 
Genius,  in  short,  is  the  central,  finer  essence  of  the 
mind,  the  self-lighted  fire,  the  intuitional  gift.  Talent 
gathers  and  shapes  and  applies  what  genius  forges. 
Genius  is  often  entirely  right,  and  is  never  wholly 
wrong ;  talent  is  never  wholly  right.  Genius  avails 
itself  of  all  the  capabilities  of  talent,  appropriates  to 
itself  what  suits  and  helps  it.  Talent  can  appropriate 
to  itself  nothing,  for  it  has  not  the  inward  heat  that 
can  fuse  all  material  and  assimilate  all  food  to  convert 
it  into  blood;  this  only  genius  can  do.  Goethe  was  a 
man  of  genius,  and  at  the  same  time  of  immense  and 
varied  talents;  and  no  contemporary  profited  so  much 
as  he  did  by  all  the  knowledges,  discoveries  and  accu- 
mulations made  by  others. 

Talent  is  full  of  thoughts ;  but  genius  full  of  thought. 
Genius  makes  its  observations  in  short  hand;  talent 
writes  them  out  at  length.  Talent  is  a  very  common 
family  trait,  genius  belongs  rather  to  individuals;  just 
as  you  find  one  giant  or  one  dwarf  in  a  family,  but 
rarely  a  whole  brood  of  either.    Men  of  genius  are 


GENIUS  AND  TALENT. 


495 


often  dull  and  inert  in  society,  as  the  blazing  meteor 
when  it  descends  to  earth  is  only  a  stone.  For  full 
success  the  two,  genius  and  talent,  should  coexist  in 
one  mind  in  balanced  proportions,  as  they  did  in 
Goethe's,  so  that  they  can  play  smoothly  together 
in  effective  combination.  The  work  of  the  world, 
even  the  higher  ranges,  being  done  by  talent,  talent, 
backed  by  industry,  is  sure  to  achieve  outward  suc- 
cess. Commonplace  is  the  smooth  road  on  which  are 
borne  the  freights  that  supply  the  daily  needs  of  life; 
but  genius,  as  the  originator  of  all  appliances  and  aids 
and  motions  and  improvements,  is  the  parent  of  what 
is  to-day  common  —  of  all  that  talent  has  turned  to 
practical  account. 

It  is  one  of  the  mysteries  of  our  life  that  genius,  that 
noblest  gift  of  God  to  man,  is  nourished  by  poverty. 
Its  greatest  works  have  been  achieved  by  the  sorrowing 
ones  of  the  world  in  tears  and  despair.  Not  in  the 
brilliant  saloon,  furnished  with  every  comfort  and 
elegance;  not  in  the  library  well  fitted,  softly  carpeted, 
and  looking  out  upon  a  smooth,  green  lawn,  or  a  broad 
expanse  of  scenery;  not  in  ease  and  competence,  is 
genius  born  and  nurtured ;  more  frequently  in  adversity 
and  destitution,  amidst  the  harrassing  cares  of  a  strait- 
ened household,  in  bare  and  fireless  garrets,  with  the 
noise  of  squalid  children,  in  the  midst  of  the  turbulence 
of  domestic  contentions,  and  in  the  deep  gloom  of 
uncheered  despair,  is  genius  born  and  reared.  This  is 
its  birth-place  and  in  scenes  like  these,  unpropitioust 
repulsive,  wretched,  have  men  labored,  studied  and 
trained  themselves,  until  they  have  at  last  emanated 


496 


GENIUS  AND  TALENT. 


out  of  the  gloom  of  that  obscurity  the  shining  lights 
of  their  times,  become  the  companions  of  kings,  the 
guides  and  teachers  of  their  kind,  and  exercise  an 
influence  upon  the  thought  of  the  world  amounting  to 
a  species  of  intellectual  legislation. 

Genius  involves  a  more  than  usual  susceptibility  to 
divine  promptings,  a  delicacy  in  spiritual  speculation,  a 
quick  obedience  to  the  invisible  helmsman;  and  these 
high  superiorities  imply  fineness  and  fullness  of  organ- 
ization. The  man  of  genius  is  subject,  says  Joubert,  to 
"transport,  or  rather  rapture,  of  mind."  In  this  exalted 
state  he  has  glimpses  of  truth,  beauties,  principles,  laws> 
that  are  new  revelations,  and  bring  additions  to  human 
power.  Goethe  might  have  been  thinking  of  Kepler 
when  he  said,  "  Genius  is  that  power  of  man  which  by 
thought  and  action  gives  laws  and  rules;"  and  Cole- 
ridge of  Milton,  when  he  wrote,  "  The  ultimate  end  of 
genius  is  ideal;"  and  Hegel  may  have  had  Michael 
Angelo  in  his  mind  when,  in  one  of  his  chapters  on  the 
plastic  arts,  he  affirms  that  "talent  cannot  do  its  part 
fully  without  the  animation,  the  besouling  of  genius." 

Great  powers  and  natural  gifts  do  not  bring  privi- 
leges to  their  possessors,  so  much  as  they  bring  duties. 
A  cotemporary,  in  dilating  on  genius,  thus  sagely 
remarks:  "The  talents  granted  to  a  single  individual 
do  not  benefit  himself  alone,  but  are  gifts  to  the  world; 
every  one  shares  them,  for  every  one  suffers  or  benefits 
by  his  actions.  Genius  is  a  light-house,  meant  to  give 
light  from  afar;  the  man  who  bears  it  is  but  the  rock 
upon  which  the  light-house  is  built." 

Hath  God  given  you  genius  and  learning?    It  was 


THINKERS. 


497 


not  that  you  might  amuse  or  deck  yourself  with  it  and 
kindle  a  blaze  which  should  only  serve  to  attract  and 
dazzle  the  eyes  of  men.  It  was  intended  to  be  the 
means  of  leading  both  yourself  and  them  to  the  Father 
of  lights.  And  it  will  be  your  duty,  according  to  the 
peculiar  turn  of  that  genius  and  capacity,  either  to 
endeavor  to  promote  and  adorn  human  life,  or,  by  a 
more  direct  application  of  it  to  divine  subjects,  to  plead 
the  cause  of  religion,  to  defend  its  truths,  to  enforce 
and  recommend  its  practice,  to  deter  men  from  courses 
which  would  be  dishonorable  to  God  and  fatal  to  them- 
selves, and  to  try  the  utmost  efforts  of  all  the  solemn- 
ity and  tenderness  with  which  you  can .  clothe  your 
addresses,  to  lead  them  into  the  paths  of  virtue  and 
happiness. 


Thinkers  rise  upon  us  like  new  stars — a  few  in  a 

i 

century.  The  multitude  run  after  them,  and,  like 
Lazarus,  eat  the  crumbs  that  fall  from  their  table. 
They  follow  them  by  instinct ;  they  adopt  their  theories 
and  accept  their  thoughts  at  sight.  Calvin  rose  and 
thought.  What  a  multitude  swallowed  his  hard,  rock}^ 
thoughts,  as  though  they  were  digestible  mental  food  ! 
Wesley  rose,  and  another  multitude  followed  him, 
much  as  Mohammedans  followed  their  prophet.  Swe- 
denborg  rose  in  the  North,  and  straightway  a  cloud  of 
32 


498 


THINKERS. 


witnesses  appeared  about  him  to  testify  to  all  he  wrote. 
Davis  came  above  the  horizan,  and  lo !  an  army  follows 
in  his  train.  So  it  is;  men  swallow  whole  what  they 
eat,  wheat  or  chaff,  meat  or  bone,  nut  or  shell.  They 
do  not  masticate  their  mental  food ;  they  do  not 
examine  the  facts  they  learn;  the.y  do  not  digest  their 
knowledge.  If  they  did  we  should  not  have  schools 
of  men,  sects,  parties,  but  one  grand  lyceum  of  indi- 
vidual thinkers;  every  one  making  his  own  use  of  his 
knowledge,  forming  his  own  conclusions,  and  working 
out  his  own  kind  and  degree  of  culture.  We  read 
enough  to  have  a  generation  of  philosophers. 

Dull  thinkers  are  always  led  by  sharp  ones.  The 
keen  intellect  cuts  its  way  smoothly,  gracefully,  rap- 
idly; the  dull  one  wears  its  life  out  against  the  simplest 
problems.  To  perceive  accurately  and  to  think  cor- 
rectly, is  the  aim  of  all  mental  training.  Heart  and 
conscience  are  more  than  the  mere  intellect.  Yet  we 
cannot  tell  how  much  the  clear,  clean-cut  thought,  the 
intellectual  vision,  sharp  and  true,  may  aid  even  these. 
Some  say  that  a  man  never  feels  till  he  sees,  and  when 
the  object  disappears,  the  feeling  ceases.  So  we  can- 
not exaggerate  the  importance  of  clear,  correct  think- 
ing. We  should  eat,  drink,  sleep,  walk,  exercise  body 
and  mind,  to  this  end.  Just  so  far  as  we  fail,  we  make 
doits  and  idiots  of  ourselves.  We  cast  away  our 
natural  armor  and  defense.  The  designing  make  us 
dupes;  we  are  overreached  by  the  crafty,  and  trodden 
under  foot  by  the  strong. 

Undigested  learning  is  as  oppressive  as  undigested 
food;  and  as  in  the  dyspeptic  patient,  the  appetite  for 


THINKERS. 


499 


food  often  grows  with  the  inability  to  digest  it,  so  in 
the  unthinking  patient,  an  overweening  desire  to  know 
often  accompanies  the  inability  to  know  to  any  purpose. 
Thought  is  to  the  brain  what  gastric  juice  is  to  the 
stomach  —  a  solvent  to  reduce  whatever  is  received  to 
a  condition  in  which  all  that  is  wholesome  and  nutritive 
may  be  appropriated,  and  that  alone.  To  learn  merely 
for  the  sake  of  learning,  is  like  eating  merely  for  the 
taste  of  the  food.  The  mind  will  wax  fat  and  unwieldy, 
like  the  body  of  the  gormand.  The  stomach  is  to  the 
frame  what  memory  is  to  the  mind;  and  it  is  as  unwise 
to  cultivate  the  memory  at  the  expense  of  the  mind 
as  it  would  be  to  enlarge  the  capacity  of  the  stomach 
by  eating  more  food  than  the  wants  of  the  frame 
require,  or  food  that  it  could  not  appropriate.  To  learn 
in  order  to  become  wise  makes  the  mind  active  and 
powerful,  like  the  body  of  one  who  is  temperate  and 
judicious  in  meat  and  drink.  Learning  is  healthfully 
digested  by  the  mind  when  it  reflects  upon  what  is 
learned,  classifies  and  arranges  facts  and  circumstances, 
considers  the  relations  of  one  to  another,  and  places 
what  is  taken  into  the  mind  at  different  times  in  rela- 
tion to  the  same  subjects  under  their  appropriate  heads; 
so  that  the  various  stores  are  not  heterogeneously  piled 
up,  but  laid  away  in  order,  and  may  be  referred  to 
with  ease  when  wanted.  If  a  person's  daily  employ- 
ments are  such  as  demand  a  constant  exercise  of  the 
thoughts,  all  the  leisure  should  not  be  devoted  to  read- 
ing, but  a  part  reserved  for  reflecting  upon  and  arrang- 
ing in  the  mind  what  is  read.  The  manner  of  reading 
is  much  more  important  than  the  quantity.    To  hurry 


500 


THINKERS. 


through  many  books,  retaining  only  a  confused  knowl- 
edge of  their  contents,  is  but  a  poor  exercise  of  the 
brain ;  it  is  far  better  to  read  with  care  a  few  well 
selected  volumes. 

Some  of  the  great  advantages  of  thinking  are  the 
following :  First,  it  transfers  and  conveys  the  senti- 
ments of  others  to  ourselves,  so  as  to  make  them  prop- 
erty our  own.  Secondly,  it  enables  us  to  distinguish 
truth  from  error,  and  to  reject  what  is  wrong  after  we 
have  seen,  read,  or  heard  anything.  Thirdly,  by  this 
we  fix  in  our  memory  only  what  we  best  approve  of, 
without  loading  it  with  all  that  we  read.  Lastly,  by 
properly  meditating  on  what  'comes  within  the  view  of 
our  minds,  we  may  improve  upon  the  sentiments  or 
inventions  of  others,  and  thereby  acquire  great  reputa- 
tion, and  perhaps  emolument,  from  their  labors. 

All  mental  superiority  originates  in  habits  of  think- 
ing. A  child,  indeed,  like  a  machine,  may  be  made  to 
perform  certain  functions  by  external  means;  but  it  is 
only  when  he  begins  to  think  that  he  rises  to  the  dignity 
of  a  rational  being.  It  is  not  reading,  but  thinking, 
that  gives  you  the  possession  of  knowledge.  A  person 
may  see,  hear,  read  and  learn  whatever  he  pleases  and 
as  much  as  he  pleases;  but  he  will  know  very  little,  if 
anything,  of  it,  beyond  that  which  he  has  thought  over 
and  made  the  property  of  his  mind.  Take  away  thought 
from  the  life  of  man  and  what  remains?  You  may 
glean  knowledge  by  reading,  but  you  must  separate  the 
chaff  from  the  wheat  by  thinking. 

At  every  action  and  enterprise,  ask  yourself  this 
question:  What  will  the  consequence  of  this  be  to  me? 


Til  iWKERS.  501 

Am  I  not  likely  to  repent  of  it?  I  shall  be  dead  in  a 
little  time,  and  then  all  is  over  with  me.  Whatever 
thou  takest  in  hand,  remember  the  end,  and  thou  shalt 
never  do  amiss.  Think  before  you  speak,  and  consider 
before  you  promise.  Take  time  to  deliberate  and 
advise;  but  lose  no  time  in  executing  your  resolutions. 
Do  nothing  to-day  that  you  will  repent  of  to-morrow. 
In  the  morning  think  of  what  you  have  to  do,  and  at 
night  ask  yourself  what  you  have  done.  Seek  not  cut 
the  thoughts  that  are  too  hard  for  thee.  Strive  not  in  a 
matter  that  concerneth  thee  not.  Evil  thoughts  are 
dangerous  enemies,  and  should  be  repulsed  at  the 
threshold  of  our  minds.  Fill  the  head  and  heart  with 
good  thoughts,  that  there  be  no  room  for  bad  ones. 

Some  persons  complain  that  they  cannot  find  words 
for  their  thoughts,  when  the  real  trouble  is  they  cannot 
find  thoughts  for  their  words.  The  man  who  thinks 
laboriously  ■  will  express  himself  concisely.  It  is  only 
by  labor  that  thought  can  be  made  healthy,  and  only 
by  thought  that  labor  can  be  made  happy.  It  is  not 
depth  of  thought  which  makes  obscure  to  others  the 
work  of  a  thinker;  real  and  offensive  obscurity  comes 
merely  of  inadequate  thought  embodied  in  inadequate 
language.  What  is  clearly  comprehended  or  conceived, 
what  is  duly  wrought  and  thought  out,  must  find 
for  itself  and  -  seize  upon  the  clearest  and  fullest  expres- 
sion. Thoughts  are  but  dreams  till  their  effects  be 
tried.  The  best  thoughts  are  ever  swiftest  winged,  the 
duller  lag  behind.  A  thought  must  have  its  own  way 
of  expression,  or  it  will  have  no  way  at  all.  The 
thought  that  lives  is  only  the  deeds  struggling  into 


502 


THINKERS. 


birth.  It  is  with  our  thoughts  as  with  our  flowers  — 
those  that  are  simple  in  expression  carry  their  seed 
with  them;  those  that  are  double  charm  the  mind,  but 
produce  nothing. 

There  is  much  need  of  independent  thought  in  our 
day.  Too  many  yield  to  the  opinions  of  others  with- 
out asking  or  meditating  upon  their  bearing.  Often- 
times the  masses  are  enslaved  to  opinion,  especially  in 
political  matters.  This  may  be  necessary  in  some 
countries,  where  a  few  rule,  but  not  in  our  country, 
where,  through  a  liberal  education,  all  may  be  taught 
to  think.  Books  are  so  cheap  now  that  the  poorest  can 
have  access  to  the  channels  of  thought.  Books,  how- 
ever, should  only  be  used  as  an  impetus  to  set  the  mind 
in  motion  and  set  it  to  prying  deeper  and  farther  into 
nature's  hidden  recesses  and  boundless  realms  of  truth, 
or,  as  a  stone  that  is  cast  into  the  calm  bosom  of  the 
lake  causes  waves  to  roll  and  roll  on  against  the 
remotest  outlines  of  the  shore.  It  behooves  us  to  cast 
ofF  the  shackles  of  opinion  and  walk  resolutely  before 
the  world,  guided  by  a  well-grounded  opinion  of  our 
own.  Every  man  and  woman  ought  to  favor  his  age 
with  new  thoughts,  new  ideas,  as  an  addition  to  the 
great  store-house  of  ideas,  with  thoughts  that  will  live 
though  empires  fall  and  language  dies.  Such  men  and 
women  raise  the  world  from  one  degree  to  another 
higher  in  the  scale  of  civilization  and  intelligence- 
Such  are  the  lives  that  receive  the  plaudit,  "Well 
done;"  such  are  lives  virtuous,  noble  and  godlike. 

No  man  need  fear  that  he  will  exhaust  his  substance 
of  thought,  if  he  will  only  draw  his  inspiration  Irom 


BENEFACTORS  OR  MALEFACTORS. 


503 


actual  human  life.  There  the  inexhaustible  God  pours 
depths  and  endless  variety  of  truth,  and  the  true  thinker 
is  but  a  shorthand  writer  endeavoring  to  report  the 
discourse  of  God.  Shall  a  child  on  the  banks  of  the 
Amazon  fear  lest  he  should  drink  up  the  stream? 

We  are  all  well  doers  or  evil  doers.  "None  of  us 
liveth  to  himself."  We  die,  but  leave  an  influence 
behind  us  that  survives. 

The  echoes  of  our  words  are  evermore  repeated, 
and  reflected  along  the  ages.  It  is  what  man  was 
that  lives  and  acts  after  him.  What  he  said  sounds 
along  the  years  like  voices  amid  the  mountain  gorges; 
and  what  he  did  is  repeated  after  him  in  ever-multi 
plying  and  never-ceasing  reverberations.  Every  man 
has  left  behind  him  influences  for^good  or  for  evil  that 
will  never  exhaust  themselves.  The  sphere  in  which 
he  acts  may  be  small,  or  it  may  be  great.  It  may  be 
his  fireside,  or  it  may  be  a  kingdom;  a  village,  or  a 
great  nation;  it  may  be  a  parish,  or  broad  Europe; 
but  act  he  does,  ceaselessly  and  forever.  His  friends, 
his  family,  his  successors  in  office,  his  relatives,  are  all 
receptive  of  an  influence,  a  moral  influence  which  he 
has  transmitted  and  bequeathed  to  mankind;  either  a 


\ 

504  BENEFACTORS  OR  MALEFACTORS. 

blessing  which  will  repeat  itself  in  showers  of  benedic- 
tions, or  a  curse  which  will  multiply  itself  in  ever- 
accumulating  evil. 

Every  man  is  a  missionary,  now  and  forever,  for 
good  or  for  evil,  whether  he  intends  and  designs  it,  or 
not.  He  may  be  a  blot,  radiating  his  dark  influence 
outward  to  the  very  circumference  of  society,  or  he 
may  be  a  blessing,  spreading  benedictions*  over  the 
length  and  breadth  of  the  world;  but  a  blank  lie  can- 
not be.  The  seed  sown  in  life  springs  up  in  harvests  of 
blessings,  or  harvests  of  sorrow.  Whether  our  influ- 
ence be  great  or  small,  whether  it  be  for  good  or  evil, 
it  lasts,  it  lives  somewhere,  within  some  limit,  and  is 
operative  wherever  it  is.  The  grave  buries  the  dead 
dust,  but  the  character  walks  the  world,  and  distributes 
itself,  as  a  benediction  or  a  curse,  among  the  families 
of  mankind. 

The  sun  sets  beyond  the  western  hills,  but  the  trail 
of  light  he  leaves  behind  him  guides  the  pilgrim  to  his 
distant  home.  The  tree  falls  in  the  forest;  but  in  the 
lapse  of  ages  it  is  turned  into  coal,  and  our  fires  burn 
now  the  brighter  because  it  grew  and  fell.  The  coral 
insect  dies,  but  the  reef  it  raised  breaks  the  surge  on 
the  shores  of  great  continents,  or  has  formed  an  isle  in 
♦the  bosom  of  the  ocean,  to  wave  with  harvests  for  the 
good  of  man.  We  live  and  we  die;  but  the  good  or 
evil  that  we  do  lives  after  us,  and  is  not  "buried  with 
our  bones." 

The  babe  that  perished  on  the  bosom  of  its  mother, 
like  a  flower  that  bowed  its  head  and  drooped  amid 


BENEFACTORS  OR  MALEFACTORS.  505 
i 

the  death-frosts  of  time  —  that  babe,  not  only  in  its 
image,  but  in  its  influence,  still  lives  and  speaks  in  the 
chambers  of  the  mother's  heart:. 

The  friend  with  whom  we  tcoK  sweet  counsel  is 
removed  visibly  from  the  outward  eye;  but  the  lessons 
that  he  taught,  the  grand  sentiments  that  he  uttered, 
the  holy  deeds  of  generosity  by  which  he  was  charac- 
terized, the  moral  lineaments  and  likeness  of  the  man, 
still  survive  and  appear  in  the  silence  of  eventide,  and 
on  the  tablets  of  memory,  and  in  the  light  of  morn  and 
noon,  and  dewy  eve;  and,  being  dead,  he  yet  speaks 
eloquently,  and  in  the  midst  of  us. 

Mahomet  still  lives  in  his  practical  and  disastrous 
influence  in  the  East.  Napoleon  still  is  France,  and 
France  is  almost  Napoleon.  Martin  Luther's  dead 
dust  sleeps  at  Wittenburg,  but  Martin  Luther's  accents 
still  ring  through  the  churches  of  Christendom.  Shakes- 
peare, Byron,  and  Milton,  all  live  in  their  influence,  for 
good  or  evil.  The  apostle  from  his  chair,  the  minister 
from  his  pulpit,  the  martyr  from  his  flame-shroud,  the 
statesman  from  his  cabinet,  the  soldier  in  the  field,  the 
sailor  on  the  deck,  who  all  have  passed  away  to  their 
graves,  still  live  in  the  practical  deeds  that  they  did,  in 
the  lives  they  lived,  and  in  the  powerful  lessons  that 
\hey  left  behind  them. 

"None  of  us  liveth  to  himself; "  others  are  affected 
by  that  life;  "or  dieth  to  himself;''  others  are  inter- 
ested in  that  death.  The  queen's  crown  may  moulder, 
but  she  who  wore  it  will  act  upon  the  ages  which  are 
yet  to  come.  The  noble's  coronet  may  be  reft  in  pieces, 
but  the  wearer  of  it  is  now  doing  what  will  be  reflected 


500 


BENEFACTORS  OR  MALEFACTORS. 


by  thousands  who  will  be  made  and  moulded  by  him. 
Dignity,  and  rank,  and  riches,  are  all  corruptible  and 
worthless ;  but  moral  character  has  an  immortality  that 
no  sword-point  can  destroy;  that  ever  walks  the  world 
and  leaves  lasting  influences  behind. 

What  we  do  is  transacted  on  a  stage  of  which  all  in 
the  universe  are  spectators.  What  we  say  is  transmit- 
ted in  echoes  that  will  never  cease.  What  we  are  is 
influencing  and  acting  on  the  rest  of  mankind.  Neutral 
we  cannot  be.  Living  we  act.  and  dead  we  speak; (and. 
the  whole  universe  is  the  mighty  company  forever  look- 
ing, forever  listening;  and  all  nature  the  tablets  forever 
recording  the  words,  the  deeds,  the  thoughts,  the 
passions  of  mankind! 

Monuments,  and  columns,  and  statues,  erected  to 
heroes,  poets,  orators,  statesmen,  are  all  influences 
that  extend  into  the  future  ages.  The  blind  old  man 
of  Scio's  rocky  isle  still  speaks.  The  Mantuan  bard 
still  sings  in  every  school.  Shakespeare,  the  bard  of 
Avon,  is  still  translated  into  every  tongue.  The  phi- 
losophy of  the  Stagyrite  is  still  felt  in  every  academy. 
Whether  these  influences  are  beneficent  or  the  reverse, 
they  are  influences  fraught  with  power.  How  blest 
must  be  the  recollection  of  those  who,  like  the  setting 
sun.  have  left  a  trail  of  light  behind  them  by  which 
others  may  see  the  way  to  that  rest  which  remaineth 
tor  the  people  of  God! 

Since  our  earthly  life  is  so  brief,  "and  the  night  will 
soon  come  when  the  murmur  and  hum  of  our  days 
shall  be  dumb  evermore,"  it  were  well  to  have  mile 
stones  by  the  way  pointing  to  a  better  land.   Ah !  these 


BENEFACTORS  OR  MALEFACTORS. 


507 


are  the  true  laborers  in  the  world's  great  harvest  iield 
in  any  and  in  all  its  varied  departments. 

The  yeoman,  gathering  treasures  from  the  bosom  of 
the  earth,  and  thus  aiding  in  the  sustenance  of  human- 
ity; the  miner,  delving  into  the  deep  cavern  and  bring- 
ing forth  diamonds  and  precious  stones,  adding  to  the 
world's  vast  wealth ;  the  manufacturer,  sending  the 
costly  fabrics  through  the  land,  and  securing  exchange 
from  foreign  countries;  the  architect,  with  the  proud 
monuments  of  his  skill ;  the  sculptor,  with  his  chisel 
carving  the  form  divine ;  the  artist,  writing  out  in 
letters  of  abiding  light  the  faces  we  so  fondly  love,  and 
thus  blessing  us  with  the  continued  presence  of  not 
only  our  absent  ones,  but  also  those  who  "are  not," 
since  God  hath  taken  them;  all  these  are  truly  earth's 
benefactors,  and  yet  only  the  silver  links  in  the  mighty 
chain. 

Would  we  be  numbered  among  earth's  benefactors, 
and  have  our  .middle  and  latest  \  life  filled  with  richest 
and  holiest  experiences,  we  must  be  ofttimes  oblivious 
oi  self,  con  well  the  lesson  contained  in  the  "Golden 
Rule,"  and  be  still  further  perfected  in  the  two  great 
commandments,  "on  which  hang  all  the  law  and  the 
prophets."  When  all  the  purple  and  gold,  the  glitter 
and  tinsel  of  our  earthly  life  is  ended,  and  the  unknown 
and  mysterious  eternity  is  spread  out  to  our  immortal 
vision,  will  it  not  be  a  source  of  greater  joy  to  us  to 
have  wiped  a  tear  from  the  eye  of  the  sorrowing,  to 
have  soothed  a  weary  pilgrim  crossing  the  river  of 
death,  pointing  by  an  eye  of  faith  to  the  "better 
country,"  "even  a  heavenly,"  to  have  plumed  one 


508 


T1UALS  OF  LIFE. 


wing  for  its  eternal  flight,  than  to  possess  a  kingly 
crown,  or  wear  fame's  brightest  laurels? 

It  is  only  the  pure  fountain  that  brings  forth  pure 
water.  The  good  tree  only  will  produce  the  good 
fruit.  If  the  center  from  which  all  proceeds  is  pure 
and  holy,  the  radii  of  influence  from  it  will  be  pure 
and  holy  also.  Go  forth,  then,  into  the  spheres  that 
yTou  occupy,  the  employments,  the  trades,  the  profes- 
sions of  social  life ;  go  forth  into  the  high  places,  or 
into  the  lowly  places  of  the  land;  mix  with  the  roaring 
cataracts  of  social  convulsions,  or  mingle  amid  the 
eddies  and  streamlets  of  quiet  and  domestic  life;  what- 
ever sphere  you  fill,  carry  into  it  a  holy  heart,  you  will 
radiate  around  you  life  and  power,  and  leave  behind 
you  holy  and  beneficent  influences. 


f  mis  of  %iit. 

Stars  shine  brightest  in  the  darkest  night;  torches 
are  the  better  for  beating  ;  grapes  come  not  to  the 
proof  till  they  come  to  the  press;  spices  smell  sweetest 
when  pounded ;  young  trees  root  the  faster  for  shaking ; 
vines  are  the  better  for  bleeding;  gold  looks  the  brighter 
for  scouring ;  glow-worms  glisten  best  in  the  dark  ; 
juniper  smells  sweetest  in  the  fire;  pomander  becomes 
most  fragrant  for  chasing ;  the  palm-tree  proves  the 
better  for  pressing;  camomile,  the  more  you  tread  it, 
the  more  you  spread  it.    Such  is  the  condition  of  men; 


OR  THE  ROYAL  PATH  OF  LIFE 


TRIALS  OF  LIFE. 


509 


they  are  the  most  triumphant  when  most  tempted;  as 
their  conflicts,  so  their  conquests;  as  their  tribulations, 
so  their  triumphs.  True  salamanders  live  best  in  the 
furnace  of  persecution;  so  that  heavy  afflictions  are  the 
best  benefactors  to  heavenly  affections.  And  where 
afflictions  hang  heaviest,  corruptions  hang  loosest;  and 
grace  that  is  hid  in  nature,  as  sweet  water  in  rose- 
leaves,  is  then  most  fragrant  when  the  fire  of  affliction 
is  put  under  to  distil  it  out. 

Do  you  wish  to  live  without  a  trial  ?  Then  you 
wish  to  die  but  half  a  man — at  the  best  but  half  a  man. 
Without  trial  you  cannot  guess  at  your  own  strength. 
Men  do  not  learn  to  swim  on  a  table.  They  must  go 
into  deep  water  and  buffet  the  surges.  A  certain 
amount  of  opposition  is  a  great  help-  to  a  man.  Kites 
rise  against  the  wind,  and  not  with  the  wind;  even  a 
head  wind  is  better  than  none.  No  man  ever  worked 
his  passage  any  where  in  a  calm.  Let  no  man  wax 
pale,  therefore,  because  of  opposition ;  opposition  is 
what  he  wants  and  must  have,  to  be  good  for  any 
thing.  Hardship  is  the  native  soil  of  manhood  and 
self-reliance. 

An  acorn  is  not  an  oak  tree  when  it  is  sprouted.  It 
must  go  through  long  summers  and  fierce  winters ;  it 
has  to  endure  all  that  frost,  and  snow,  and  thunder, 
and  storm,  and  side-striking  winds  can  bring,  before  it 
is  a  full-grown  oak.  These  are  rough  teachers  ;  but 
rugged  schoolmasters  make  rugged  pupils.  So  a  man 
is  not  a  man  when  he  is  created ;  he  is  only  begun. 
His  manhood  must  come  with  years.  A  man  who 
1  goes  through  life  prosperous,  and  comes  to  his  grave 


510 


TRIALS  OF  LIFE. 


without  a  wrinkle,  is  not  half  a  man.  In  time  of  war, 
whom  does  the  general  select  for  some  hazardous 
enterprise?  He  looks  over  his  men,  and  chooses  the 
soldier  whom  he  knows  will  not  flinch  at  danger,  but 
will  go  bravely  through  whatever  is  allotted  to  him. 
He  calls  him  that  he  may  receive  his  orders,  and  the 
officer,  blushing  with  pleasure  to  be  thus  chosen, 
hastens  away  to  execute  them.  Difficulties  are  God's 
errands.  And  when  we  are  sent  upon  them  we  should 
esteem  it  a  proof  of  God's  confidence  —  as  a  compli- 
ment from  God.  The  traveler  who  goes  round  the 
world  prepares  himself  to  pass  through  all  latitudes, 
and  to  meet  all  changes.  So  man  must  be  willing  to 
take  life  as  it  comes;  to  mount  the  hill  when  the  hill 
swells,  and  to  go  down  the  hill  when  the  hill  lowers; 
to  walk  the  plain  when  it  stretches  before  him,  and  to 
ford  the  river  when  it  rolls  over  the  plain.  "I  can  do 
all  things  through  Christ  which  strengtheneth  me." 

The  best  of  people  will  now  and  them  meet  with 
disappointments,  for  they  are  inherited  by  mortality. 
It  is,  however,  the  better  philosophy  to  take  things 
calmly  and  endeavor  to  be  content  with  our  lot.  We 
may  at  least  add  some  rays  of  sunshine  to  our  path,  if 
we  earnestly  endeavor  to  dispel  the  clouds  of  discontent 
that  may  arise  in  our  bosoms.  And  by  so  doing,  we 
the  more  fully  enjoy  the  bountiful  blessing  that  God 
gives  to  his  humblest  creatures. 

It  is  far  more  noble  to  improve  each  hour  in  culti- 
vating the  mind,  and  attuning  it  to  the  glory  of  the 
Creator.  For  this  end  it  matters  not  so  much  whether 
we  spend  our  time  in  study  or  toil;  the  thoughts  of  the 


TJUAL8  OF  LIFE. 


511 


mind  should  go  out  and  reach  alter  the  higher  good. 
In  this  manner  we  may  improve  ourselves  till  our 
thoughts  come  to  be  sweet  companions  that  shall  lead 
us  along  the  path  of  virtue.  Thus  we  may  grow  bet- 
ter within,  whilst  the  cares  of  life,  the  crosses  and 
losses  and  disappointments  lose  their  sharp  thorns,  and 
the  journey  of  life  be  made  comparatively  pleasant 
and  happy. 

Much  material  good  must  be  resigned  if  we  would 
attain  to  the  highest  degree  of  moral  excellence,  and 
many  spiritual  joys  must  be  foregone  if  we  resolve  at 
all  risks  to  win  great  material  advantages.  To  strive 
for  a  high  professional  position,  and  yet  expect  to  have 
all  the  delights  of  leisure;  to  labor  for  vast  riches,  and 
yet  to  ask  for  freedom  from  anxiety  and  care,  and  all 
the  happiness  which  flows  from  a  contented  mind:  to 
indulge  in  sensual  gratification,  and  yet  demand  health, 
strength,  and  vigor;  to  live  for  self,  and  yet  to  look  for 
the  joys  that  spring  from  a  virtuous  and  self-denying 
life,  is  to  ask  for  impossibilities. 

God  knows  what  keys  in  the  human  soul  to  touch  in 
order  to  draw  out  its  sweeter  and  most  perfect  harmo- 
nies. They  may  be  the  minor  strains  of  sadness  and 
sorrow ;  they  may  be  the  loftier  notes  of  joy  and 
gladness.  God  knows  where  the  melodies  of  our 
natures  are,  and  what  discipline  will  bring  them  forth. 
Some  with  plaintive  tongues  must  walk  in  lowly  vales 
of  life's  weary  way ;  others,  in  loftier  hymns,  sing 
i  of  nothing  but  joy,  as  they  tread  the  mountain-tops 
of  life;  but  they  all  unite  without  discord  or  jar  as  the 
ascending  anthem  of  loving  and  believing  hearts  finds 
its  way  into  the  chorus  of  the  redeemed  heaven. 


512 


SICKNESS. 


itkmzm. 


Sickness  brings  a  share  of  blessings  with  it.  What 
stores  of  human  love  and  sympathy  it  reveals.  What 
constant  affectionate  care  is  ours.  What  kindly  greet- 
ings from  friends  and  associates.  This  very  loosening 
of  our  hold  upon  life  calls  out  such  wealth  of  human 
sympatlry  that  life  seems  richer  than  before.  Then  it- 
teaches  humility.  Our  absence  is  scarcely  felt  or 
noticed.  From  the  noisy,  wrestling  world  without  we 
are  separated  completely,  as  if  the  moss  was  on  our 
tombstones;  yet  our  place  is  filled  and  all  moves  on 
without  us.  So  we  learn  that  when  at  last  we  shall 
sink  forever  beneath  the  waves  of  the  sea  of  life,  there 
will  be  but  one  ripple  and  the  current  will  move  steadily 
on.  On  the  sick-bed  the  sober  truth  comes  home  with 
startling  emphasis: 

"The  gay  will  laugh 
When  thou  art  gone,  the  solemn  brood  of  care 
Plod  on,  and  each  one  as  before  will  chase 
His  favorite  phantom." 

We  cannot  too  soon  convince  ourselves  how  easily 
we  may  be  dispensed  with  in  the  world.  What  im 
portant  personages  we  imagine  ourselves  to  be!  We 
think  that  we  alone  are  the  life  of  the  circle  in  which 
we  move;  in  our  absence  we  fancy  that  life,  existence 
and  breath  will  come  to  a  general  pause ;  and  alas  t  the 
gap  which  we  leave  is  scarcely  perceptible,  so  quickly 
is  it  filled  again;  na}/,  it  is  often  but  the  place,  if  not 


SICKNESS. 


513 


for  something  better,  at  least  for  something  more 
agreeable. 

When  sickness  has  drawn  a  vail  over  the  gayety  of 
our  hearts,  or  adversity  eclipsed  the  splendor  of  our 
outward  circumstances;  when  some  intervening  cloud 
has  darkened  the  pleasing  scenes  of  life,  or  disappoint- 
ments opened  our  eyes;  then  vice  loses  her  fallacious 
allurements  and  the  world  appears  as  an  empty,  delusive 
cheat;  then  Jesus  and  the  Gospel  beam  forth  with  inim- 
itable luster,  and  Christian  virtue  gains  loveliness  from 
such  lowering  providences,  and  treads  the  shades  with 
more  than  mortal  charms.  May  this  reconcile  me,  and 
all  the  sons  of  sorrow,  to  our  appointed  share  of  suffer- 
ings. If  tribulations  tend  to  refine  the  soul  and  prepare 
it  for  glory,  welcome  distress,  or  whatever  our  peevish 
passions  may  miscall  calamities.  These  are  not  judg- 
ments or  marks  of  displeasure  to  God's  children,  but 
necessary  and  salutary  chastisements,  as  well  as  tokens 
of  his  parental  concern  for  our  spiritual  and  eternal 
welfare.  Afflictions  should,  therefore,  sit  easy  upon  usT 
since  they  increase  our  knowledge  and  humility,  pro- 
mote our  faith  and  love,  and  work  out  for  us  a  far  more 
exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory. 

Sickness  scours  us  of  our  rust,  and  however  the 
wicked,  like  trees  in  the  wilderness,  grow  without 
culture,  yet  the  saints,  like  trees  in  the  garden,  must  be 
pruned  to  be  made  fruitful,  and  sickness  does  this.  God 
y  will  prune  his  people,  but  not  hew  them  down;  the 
right  hand  of  his  mercy  knows  what  the  left  hand  of 
his  severity  is  doing.  There  is  as  much  difference 
between  the  sufferings  of  the  saints  and  those  of  the 
33 


514 


ungodly,  as  between  the  cords  with  which  an  execu- 
tioner pinions  a  condemned  malefactor,  and  the  band- 
ages wherewith  a  tender  surgeon  binds  his  patient. 

Sickness  and  disease  are,  in  weak  minds,  the  sources 
of  melancholy;  but  that  which  is  painful  to  the  body 
may  be  profitable  to  the  soul.  Sickness,  the  mother  of 
modesty,  puts  us  in  mind  of  our  mortality,  and  while 
we  drive  on  heedlessly  in  the  full  career  of  worldly 
pomp  and  jollity,  kindly  pulls  us  by  the  ear,  and  brings 
us  to  a  proper  sense  of  our  duty. 

A  minister  was  recovering  of  a  dangerous  illness, 
when  one  of  his  friends  addressed  him  thus:  "Sir, 
though  God  seems  to  be  bringing  you  up  from  the 
gates  of  death,  yet  it  will  be  a  long  time  before  you 
will  sufficiently  retrieve  your  strength  and  regain  vigor 
enough  of  mind  to  preach  as  usual.''  The  good  man 
answered:  "You  are  mistaken,  my  friend;  for  this  six 
weeks'  illness  has  taught  me  more  divinity  than  all 
my  past  studies  and  all  my  ten  years'  ministry  put 
together." 

Dr.  Payson  being  ill,  a  friend  coming  into  his  room 
remarked,  in  a  familiar  way:  "Well,  I  am  sorry  to 
see  you  lying  here  on  your  back."  "Do  you  know 
what  God  puts  us  on  our  backs  for?"  asked  Dr.  Payson, 
smiling.  "No,"  was  the  answer.  "In  order  that  we 
may  look  upward."  His  friend  said  to  him,  "I  am  not 
come  to  condole  but  to  rejoice  with  you,  for  it  seems  to 
me  that  this  is  no  time  for  mourning."  "Well,  I  am 
glad  to  hear  that,"  was  the  reply,  "it  is  not  often  that 
I  am  addressed  in  such  a  way.  The  fact  is  I  never  had 
less  need  of  condolence,  and  yet  everybody  persists  in 


TEARS. 


515 


offering  it;  whereas,  when  I  was  prosperous  and  well, 
and  a  successful  preacher,  and  really  needed  condolence, 
they  flattered  and  congratulated  me."  Whom  the  Lord 
loveth  he  chasteneth,  and  if  we  endure  chastening,  God 
dealeth  with  us  as  with  sons  and  daughters. 


There  is  a  sacredness  in  tears.  They  are  not  the 
mark  of  weakness,  but  of  power.  They  speak  more 
eloquence  than  ten  thousand  tongues.  They  are  the 
messages  of  overwhelming  grief,  of  deep  contrition, 
of  unspeakable  love.  If  there  were  wanting  any  argu- 
ment to  prove  that  man  is  not  mortal,  I  would  look  for 
it  in  the  strong  conclusive  emotions  of  the  breast,  when 
the  soul  has  been  deeply  agitated;  when  the  fountains 
of  feeling  are  rising,  and  when  tears  are  gushing  forth 
in  crystal  streams.  O,  speak  not  harshly  of  the  stricken 
one — weeping  in  silence!  Break  noc  the  solemnity  by 
rude,  laughter,  or  intrusive  footsteps.  Despise  not 
woman's  tears — they  are  what  make  her  an  angel. 
Scoff  not  if  the  stern  heart  of  manhood  is  sometimes 
melted  to  sympathy — they  are  what  help  to  elevate 
him  above  the  brute.  We  love  to  see  tears  of  affec- 
tion. They  are  painful  tokens,  but  still  most  holy. 
There  is  pleasure  in  tears — an  awful  pleasure.  II 
there  were  none  on  earth  to  shed  a  tear  for  us,  we 


516 


TEARS. 


should  be  loth  to  live;  and  if  no  one  might  weep 
over  our  grave,  we  could  never  die  in  peace. 

Genuine  tears  are  the  involuntary  and  faithful  ex- 
pressions of  the  soul.  The  soul's  sorrow  or  joy — 
for  joy  weeps — guilt  or  innocence — for  insulted  vir- 
tue has  its  tears — glistens  in  the  pearly  drop.  Tears 
relieve  the  soul;  they  are  prevailing  r  :>rs;  they  win 
triumphs  which  neither  the  infernal  sword,  nor  divine 
speech  could  ever  achieve.  A  true  tear  is  electric 
to  the  true.  A  tear  dropped  in  the  silence  of  a  sick 
chamber  often  rings  in  heaven  with  a  sound  which 
belongs  not  to  earthly  trumpets  or  bells. 

Tears  generally  tremble  in  our  eyes  when  we  are 
happy,  and  glisten  like  pearls,  or  dew-drops  on  the 
flower  cup;  but  when  we  first  realize  any  overwhelm- 
ing and  unlooked  for  happiness,  we  gaze  round  with 
a  smile  of  bewildered  ecstacy,  and  no  tears  tremble 
in  our  eyes.  The  extremes  of  joy  and  sorrow  are  too 
great,  too  deep  for  tears. 

Tender,  holy  and  sanctifying  are  human  tears  — 
crystals  of  affection  and  pity — jewels  of  the  soul.  One 
trickled  on  the  cheek  of  a  child.  It  had  been  crossed 
in  the  fulfillment  of  some  anticipation,  and  from  a 
grieved  heart  gushed  up  the  sympathizing  tear. 
Another  trembled  from  the  eyelid  of  youth.  He 
had  felt  the  touch  of  a  bitter  reproof,  or  of  disap- 
pointed love,  and  to  soften  his  brain  and  sorrow 
came  the  same  beautiful  tear. 

O,  doubt  not  that  manhood — strong  manhood — 
was  then  solaced  by  tears.  O,  ye  tears!  what  a  mis- 
sion have  ye  wrought  in  our  sorrowing  world!  How 


TEAMS. 


517 


tenderly  worshiped  on  the  altars  of  pity  and  sineere 
love — how  gloriously  sanctified  repentance  and  grief! 
Down  in  the  damp  cell  where  the  martyr  rattles  his 
chains;  in  the  dungeon  where  the  patriot  waits  for 
the  block — ye  have  performed,  O  tears!  the  same 
blessed  work.  Even  to  joy  ye  have  been  a  balm  of 
oil — a  refiner's  fire.  When  the  Macedonian  passed 
the  pillar  of  Hercules,  he  was  conquered  by  tears  — 
the  same  tears  that  sprung  but  now,  like  dew-drops, 
from  the  lashes  of  yon  blue-eyed  child. 

For  what  different  ends,  and  yet  unchanged,  have 
ye  wrought.  Every  moment  mellowing  and  calming 
some  sad,  worn  heart  —  aye,  every  day  doing  some 
mission  for  each  of  our  souls.  Ye  have  gushed  over 
battle-fields  and  over  festive  halls;  around  the  bier  and 
the  board;  and  deeper,  holier,  have  been  our  loves  and 
our  friendliness  with  each  return  of  your  hallowed 
feet — aye,  feet!  for  tears  have  feet,  and  they  come 
treading  up  the  soul  like  so  many  angels,  offering  sac- 
rifices through  our  eyes.  Repress  them  not,  child — 
they  are  a  purifying  vent  to  thy  young  heart.  Repress 
them  not,  O  youth — they  are  good  and  holy  for  thee. 
Repress  them  not,  mother — for  unto  thee  God  has 
given  them  to  be  a  comforter  in  the  lone  and  bitter 
hour.  And  thou,  manhood,  quench  not  the  fountain 
whose  upheaving  is  the  most  beautiful  manifestation 
of  thy  spiritual  life.  Tears,  beautiful,  blessed  tears,  be 
ever  with  every  reader — with  us  all;  our  token  when 
we  sigh  for  the  absent,  or  weep  for  the  lost  —  a  sacred 
witness  that  our  regrets  and  sorrows  are  sincere. 

It  is  a  striking  fact  that  the  dying  never  weep.  The 


518 


SORROW. 


sobbing,  the  heart-breaking  agony  01  the  circle  of 
friends  around  the  death-bed,  call  forth  no  responsive 
tears  from  the  dying.  Is  it  because  he  is  insensible, 
and  stiff  in  the  chill  of  dissolution?  That  cannot  be, 
for  he  asks  for  his  father's  hand,  as  if  to  gain  strength 
in  the  mortal  struggle,  and  leans  on  the  breast  of  his 
mother,  sister  or  brother,  in  still  conscious  affection. 
Just  before  expiring,  he  calls  the  loved  ones,  and  with 
quivering  lips  says:  "Kiss  me,"  showing  that  the  love 
which  he  has  borne  in  his  heart  is  still  fresh  and  warm. 
It  must  be  because  the  dying  have  reached  a  point  too 
deep  for  earthly  sorrows,  too  transcendent  for  weeping. 
They  are  face  to  face  with  higher  and  holier  things, 
with  the  Father  in  Heaven  and  His  angels.  There  is 
no  weeping  in  that  blessed  abode  to  which  the  dying 
man  is  hastening. 


Give  Sorrow  words  :  the  grief,  that  does  not  speak, 
Whispers  the  o'erfraught  Heart,  and  bids  it  break. 

— Shakespeare. 

He  who  tastes  only  the  bitter  in  the  cup  of  life,  who 
looks  only  at  the  clouds  which  lower  in  one  quarter  of 
the  heavens,  while  the  sun  is  shining  cheerily  in  another, 
who  persists  in  pricking  and  scratching  himself  with 
the  thorn,  and  refuses  to  enjoy  the  fragrance  of  the 
rose  is  an  ingrate  to  God  and  a  torment  to  himself 


SORROW. 


519 


The  record  of  human  life  is  far  more  melancholy  than 
its  course;  the  hours  of  quiet  enjoyment  are  not  noted; 
the  thousand  graces  and  happiness  of  social  life,  the 
loveliness  of  nature  meeting  us  at  every  step,  the  buoy- 
ancy of  spirit  resulting  from  health  and  pure  air,  the 
bright  sun,  the  starry  firmament  —  all  that  cheers  man 
on  his  road  through  his  probationary  state,  that  warms 
the  heart  and  makes  life  pleasant  —  is  omitted  in  the 
narrative,  which  can  only  deal  with  facts;  and  we  read 
of  disappointment,  and  sickness,  and  death,  and  exclaim, 
"Why  is  man  born  to  sorrow?"    He  is  not  so. 

Sorrows  are  only  tempest  clouds :  when  afar  off,  they 
look  black,  but  when  above  us  scarcely  gray.  Sorrow 
is  the  night  of  the  mind.  What  would  be  a  day  with- 
out its  night?  The  day  reveals  one  sun  only;  the  night 
brings  to  light  the  whole  of  the  universe.  The  analogy 
is  complete.  Sorrow  is  the  firmament  of  thought  and 
the  school  of  intelligence.  Men  that  are  wise,  as  the 
bees  draw  honey  from  the  thyme,  which  is  a  most  unsa- 
vory and  dry  herb,  extract  something  that  is  convenient 
and  useful  even  from  the  most  bitter  afflictions. 

Great  undertakings  require  the  Christian's  faith  to 
endure  the  deep  and  overwhelming  experiences  of 
human  sorrow  without  relinquishing  their  cherished 
life  work.  The  world  in  its  bitterest  forms  of  oppres- 
sion spent  itself  upon  Tasso,  Dante,  and  Milton,  in  vain. 
Redeemed,  exalted,  purified,  they  came  forth  from  the 
abyss  of  anguish,  and  sung  to  their  fellows  a  song 
which  those  who  have  never  suffered,  could  never 
utter.  Alas!  how  many  richly  freighted  souls  have 
sunk  in  the  angry  billows  that  came  rushing  in  their 


520 


SORROW. 


furious  strength  only  to  bend  beneath  these  master- 
spirits and  bear  them  up  to  immortality.  Sweetest 
of  all  songs  are  the  Psalms  in  the  night.  David  sang 
with  the  most  touching  tenderness  when  in  the  gloom 
of  deepest  affliction.  The  heart  may  wail  a  miserere 
over  its  dead  or  its  dying,  but  even  that  will  be  sadly 
sweet,  and  will  have  a  hope  in  it.  The  saddest  song  is 
better  than  none,  because  it  is  a  song. 

Sorrow  is  one  of  God's  own  angels  in  the  land.  Her 
pruning-knife  may  not  spare  the  tender  buds  of  hope 
that  make  glad  the  garden  of  the  soul,  but  her  fingers 
sow  the  seeds  of  a  quick  sympathy  with  the  woes  of  a 
common  humanity,  which,  springing  into  leaf,  and  bud, 
and  blossom,  send  perfume  and  beauty  into  the  waste 
places  of  lonely  lives,  and  permeate  with  fragrant 
incense  the  soil  that  gave  them  birth. 

The  simplest  and  most  obvious  use  of  sorrow  is  to 
remind  us  of  God.  It  would  seem  that  a  certain  shock 
is  needed  to  bring  us  in  contact  with  reality.  We  are 
not  conscious  of  breathing  till  obstruction  makes  it  felt. 
We  are  not  aware  of  the  possession  of  a  heart  till  some 
disease,  some  sudden  joy  or  sorrow,  rouses  it  into  extra- 
ordinary action.  And  we  are  not  conscious  of  the 
mighty  cravings  of  our  half  divine  humanity;  we  are 
not  aware  of  the  God  within  us  till  some  chasm  yawns 
which  must  be  filled,  or  till  the  rending  asunder  of  our 
affections  forces  us  to  become  fearfully  conscious  of  a 
need. 

To  mourn  without  measure,  is  folly ;  not  to  mourn  at 
all,  is  insensibility.  God  says  to  the  fruit  tree,  bloom 
and  bear;  and  to  the  human  heart,  bear  and  bloom — 


SORROW. 


521 


the  souPs  great  blossoming  is  the  flower  of  suffering. 
As  .the  sun  converts  clouds  into  a  glorious  drapery, 
tiring  them  with  gorgeous  hues,  and  draping  the  whole 
horizon  with  its  glorious  costume,  a'nd  writing  victory 
in  fiery  colors  along  the  vanquished  front  of  every 
cloud,  so  sometimes  a  radiant  heart  lets  forth  its  hope 
upon  its  sorrow  and  all  the  blackness  flies,  and  troubles 
that  trooped  to  appal  seem  to  crowd  around  as  a  tri- 
umphal procession  following  the  steps  of  a  victor. 

There  are  people  who  think  that  to  be  grim  is  to  be 
good,  and  that  a  thought,  to  be  really  wholesome,  must 
necessarily  be  shaped  like  a  coffin.  They  seem  to  think 
that  black  is  the  color  of  heaven,  and  that  the  more 
they  can  make  their  faces  look  like  midnight,  the  holier 
they  are. 

The  days  of  darkness  come,  and  they  are  many,  but 
our  eye  takes  in  only  the  first.  One  wave  hides  another, 
and  the  effort  to  encounter  the  foremost  withdraws  our 
thought  from  evils  which  are  pressing  on.  If  we  could 
see  them  all  at  once  we  might  lie  down,  like  Elijah, 
under  the  juniper  tree,  and  say,  "It  is  enough — let  me 
not  live ! "  But  patience  attains  her  perfect  work  while 
trials  unfold.  The  capacity  of  sorrow  belongs  to  our 
grandeur;  and  the  loftiest  of  our  race  are  those  who 
have  had  the  profoundest  grief,  because  they  have  had 
the  profoundest  sympathies. 

Sorrow  comes  soon  enough  without  despondency;  it 
does  a  man  no  good  to  carry  around  a  lightning-rod  to 
attract  trouble.  When  a  gloom  falls  upon  us,  it  may 
be  we  have  entered  into  the  cloud  that  will  give  its 
gentle  showers  to  refresh  and  strengthen  us.  Heavy 


522 


SORROW. 


burdens  of  sorrow  seem  like  a  stone  hung  round  our 
neck,  yet  they  are  often  only  like  the  stone  used  by 
pearl  divers,  which  enables  them  to  reach  the  prize  and 

rise  enriched. 

Without  suffering  there  could  be  no  fortitude,  no- 
courage,  or  forbearance.  The  beauty  and  grandeur  of 
the  starry  heavens  are  only  to  be  seen  when  set  against 
the  brow  of  night;  so  sorrow  often  reveals  to  us  our 
Father,  whom  the  sunlight  of  prosperity  hides. 

Woman's  is  a  fixed,  a  secluded  and  a  meditative  life. 
She  is  the  companion  of  her  own  thoughts  and  feelings, 
and  if  they  are  turned  to  ministers  of  sorrow,  where 
shall  she  look  for  consolation?  Her  lot  is  to  be  wooed 
and  won,  and  if  unhappy  in  her  love,  her  heart  is  like 
some  fortress  that  has  been  captured,  and  sacked,  and 
abandoned,  and  left  desolate. 

How  many  bright  eyes  grow  dim — how  many  soft 
cheeks  grow  pale  —  how  many  lovely  forms  fade  away 
into  the  tomb,  and  none  can  tell  the  cause  that  blighted 
their  loveliness !  As  the  dove  will  clasp  its  wings  to  its 
side,  and  cover  and  conceal  the  arrow  that  is  preying 
on  its  vitals,  so  it  is  the  nature  of  woman  to  hide  from 
the  world  the  pangs  of  wounded  affection.  The  love 
of  a  delicate  female  is  always  shy  and  silent.  Even 
when  fortunate  she  scarcely  breathes  it  to  herself;  but 
when  otherwise,  she  buries  it  in  the  recesses  of  her 
bosom,  and  there  lets  it  brood  and  cower  among  the 
ruins  of  her  peace.  With  her  the  desire  of  the  heart 
has  failed.  The  great  charm  of  existence  is  at  an  end. 
She  neglects  all  the  cheerful  exercises  which  gladden 
the  spirits,  quicken  the  pulses,  and  send  the  tide  of  life 


SORROW. 


523 


in  healthful  currents  through  the  veins.  Her  rest  is- 
broken — the  sweet  refreshment  of  sleep  is  poisoned  by 
melancholy  dreams  —  "dry  sorrow  drinks  her  blood," 
until  her  feeble  frame  sinks  under  the  slightest  external 
injury.  Look  for  her  after  a  little  while,  and  you  will 
find  friendship  weeping  over  her  untimely  grave,  and 
wondering  that  one  who  but  lately  glowed  with  all  the 
radiance  of  health  and  beauty,  should  be  so  speedily 
brought  down  to  "darkness  and  the  worm."  You  will 
be  told  of  some  wintry  chill,  some  casual  indisposition 
that  laid  her  low;  but  no  one  knows  of  the  mental 
malady  that  previously  sapped  her  strength  and  made 
her  so  easy  a  prey  to  the  spoiler. 

There  are  sorrows  too  sacred  to  be  babbled  to  the 
world,  and  there  may  be  loves  which  one  would  forbear 
to  whisper  even  to  a  friend.  Real  sorrow  is  not  clam- 
orous. It  seeks  to  shun  every  eye,  and  breathes  in 
solitude  and  silence  the  sighs  that  come  from  the  heart. 
Every  heart  has  its  secret  sorrow,  which  the  world 
knows  not;  and  oftentimes  we  call  a  man  cold  when  he- 
is  only  sad.  Give  not  thy  mind  to  heaviness;  the  glad- 
ness of  the  heart  is  the  life  of  man,  and  joy  fulness  of  a 
man  prolongeth  his  days.  Remove  sorrow  far  from 
'  thee,  for  sorrow  hath  killed  many,  and  there  is  no 
profit  therein;  and  carefulness  bringeth  age  before  the- 
time. 

We  are  inclined  to  th:nk  that  the  causes  of  our 
sorrows  are  sent  to  us  from  above;  often  we  weep,  we 
groan  in  our  spirits,  and  we  murmur  against  God;  but 
he  leaves  us  to  our  sorrow,  and  we  are  saved;  our 
present  grief  saves  us  from  an  eternal  sorrow.  It 


-524 


SORROW. 


would  be  well,  however,  if  we  attempted  to  trace  the 
•cause  of  them;  we  should  probably  find  their  origin  in 
some  region  of  the  heart  which  we  never  had  well 
explored,  or  in  which  we  had  secretly  deposited  our 
worst  indulgences.  The  clouds  that  intercept  the 
heavens  from  us,  come  not  from  the  heavens,  but  from 
the  earth.  Excess  of  sorrow  is  as  foolish  as  profuse 
laughter.  Loud  mirth,  or  immoderate  sorrow,  inequal- 
ity of  behavior,  either  in  prosperity  or  adversity,  are 
.alike  ungraceful  in  a  man  that  is  born  to  die.  Some 
are  refined,  like  gold,  in  the  furnace;  others,  like  chaff, 
.are  consumed  in  it.  Sorrow,  when  it  is  excessive, 
takes  away  fervor  from  piety,  vigor  from  action,  health 
from  body,  light  from  reason,  and  repose  from  the 
conscience. 

Those  who  work  hard  seldom  yield  themselves 
entirely  up  to  fancied  or  real  sorrow.  When  grief  sits 
down,  folds  its  hands,  and  mournfully  feeds  upon  its 
own  tears,  weaving  the  dim  shadows,  that  a  little 
exertion  might  sweep  away  into  a  funeral  pall,  the 
strong  spirit  is  shorn  of  its  might,  and  sorrow  becomes 
our  master.  When  troubles  flow  upon  you,  dark  and 
heavy,  toil  not  with  the  waves;  wrestle  not  with  the 
torrent ;  rather  seek,  by  occupation,  to  divert  the  dark 
waters  that  threaten  to  overwhelm  you,  into  a  thou- 
sand channels  which  the  duties  of  life  always  present. 
Before  you  dream  of  it,  those  waters  will  fertilize  the 
present,  and  give  birth  to  fresh  flowers  that  may 
brighten  the  future — flowers  that  will  become  pure 
and  holy,  in  the  sunshine  which  penetrates  to  the  path 
-of  dut}^,  in  spite  of  every  obstacle.    Grief,  after  all,  is 


SORROW. 


525 


but  a  selfish  feeling;  and  most  selfish  is  the  man  who 
yields  himself  to  the  indulgence  of  any  passion  which 
brings  no  joy  to  his  fellow  man. 

They  are  true  kings  and  qjeens,  heroes  and  heroines, 
who,  folding  a  pall  of  tenderest  memory  over  the  faces 
of  their  own  lost  hopes  and  perished  loves,  go  with 
unfaltering  courage,  to  grapple  with  the  future,  to 
strengthen  the  weak,  to  comfort  the  weary,  to  hang 
sweet  pictures  of  faith  and  trust  in  the  silent  galleries 
of  sunless  lives,  and  to  point  the  desolate,  whose  paths 
wind  ever  among  shadows  and  over  rocks  where  never 
the  green  moss  grows,  to  the  golden  heights  of  the 
hereafter,  where  the  palms  of  victory  wave. 

Difficulties  are  things  that  show  what  men  are.  In 
case  of  any  difficulty,  remember  that  God,  like  a  gym- 
nastic trainer,  has  pitted  you  against  a  rough  antago- 
nist. For  what  end?  That  you  may  be  an  Olympic 
conquerer,  and  this  cannot  be  without  toil.  He  that 
has  great  affliction  is  made  of  sterner  stuff  than  most 
men.  God  seems  to  have  selected  him,  like  second 
growth  timber,  for  important  work.  It  is  not  every 
one  that  can  be  trusted  to  suffer  greatly.  God  has 
confidence  in  him  to  the  extent  of  the  affliction. 

Causeless  depression  is  not  to  be  reasoned  with,  nor 
can  David's  harp  charm  it  away,  by  sweet  discours- 
ings.  As  well  fight  with  the  mist  as  with  this  shape- 
less, undefinable,  yet  all-beclouding  hopelessness.  If 
those  who  laugh  at  such  melancholy  did  but  feel  the 
grief  of  it,  for  one  hour,  their  laughter  would  be 
sobered  into  compassion.    Resolution  might,  perhaps, 


£>26 


SORROWING  FOR  THE  BEAD. 


shake  it  off,  but  where  are  we  to  find  the  resolution, 
when  the  whole  man  is  unstrung? 

It  is  a  poor  relief  for  sorrow  to  fly  to  the  distractions 
of  the  world;  as  well  might  a  lost  and  wearied  bird, 
suspended  over  the  abyss  of  the  tempestuous  ocean, 
seek  a  resting  place  on  its  heaving  waves,  as  the  child 
of  trouble  seek  a  place  of  repose  amid  the  bustling 
cares  and  intoxicating  pleasures  of  earth  and  time. 
Christ  is  a  refuge  and  "a  very  present  help  in  trouble." 


Our  friends  may  die  and  leave  our  hearts  and  homes 
desolate  for  a  time;  we  cannot  prevent  it,  nor  would  it 
be  best  if  we  could.  Sorrow  has  its  Useful  lessons 
when  it  is  legitimate,  and  death  is  the  gate  that  opens 
out  of  earth  toward  the  house  "eternal  in  the  heavens." 
If  we  lose  them,  heaven  gains  them.  If  we  mourn, 
they  rejoice.  If  we  hang  our  harps  on  the  willows, 
they  tune  theirs  in  the  eternal  orchestra  above,  rejoicing 
that  we  shall  soon  be  with  them.  Shall  we  not  drown 
our  sorrow  in  the  flood  of  light  let  through  the  rent 
vail  of  the  skies  which  Jesus  entered,  and,  to  cure  our 
loneliness,  gather  to  us  other  friends  to  walk  life's  way, 
knowing  that  every  step  brings  us  nearer  the  departed, 
and  their  sweet,  eternal  home,  which  death  never 
enters,  and  where  partings  are  never  known?  We 


SORROWING  FOR  THE  DEAD. 


527 


may  still  love  the  departed.  They  are  ours  as  ever, 
and  we  are  theirs.  The  ties  that  unite  us  are  not 
broken.  They  are  too  strong  for  death's  stroke.  They 
are  made  for  the  joys  of  eternal  friendship.  Other 
friendships  on  earth  will  not  disturb  these  bonds  that 
link  with  dear  ones  on  high.  Nor  will  our  duties  below 
interfere  with  the  sacredness  of  our  relations  with  them. 
They  wish  not  to  see  us  in  sorrow.  They  doubtless 
sympathize  with  us,  and  could  we  hear  their  sweet 
voices,  they  would  tell  us  to  dry  our  tears  and  bind 
ourselves  to  other  friends,  and  joyfully  perform  all 
duties  on  earth  till  our  time  to  ascend  shall  come. 

"The  sorrow  for  the  dead,"  says  Irving,  "is  the  only 
sorrow  from  which  we  refuse  to  be  divorced.  Every 
other  wound  we  seek  to  heal,  every  other  affliction  to 
forget;  but  this  wound  we  consider  it  a  duty  to  keep 
open ;  this  affliction  we  cherish  and  brood  over  in 
solitude. 

"Where  is  the  mother  who  would  willingly  forget 
the  infant  that  perished  like  a  blossom  from  her  arms, 
though  every  recollection  is  a  pang?  Where  is  the 
child  that  would  willingly  forget  the  most  tender  of 
parents,  though  to  remember  be  but  to  lament?  Who, 
even  in  the  hour  of  agony,  would  forget  the  friend  over 
whom  he  mourns?  Who,  even  when  the  tomb  is 
closing  upon  the  remains  of  her  he  most  loved,  when 
he  feels  his  heart,  as  it  were,  crushed  in  the  closing  of 
its  portal,  would  accept  of  consolation  that  must  be 
bought  by  forgetfulness  ? 

"No,  the  love  which  survives  the  tomb  is  one  of  the 
noblest  attributes  of  the  soul.    If  it  has  its  woes,  it  has 


528 


SORROWING  FOR  THE  BEAD. 


likewise  its  delights;  and  when  the  overwhelming  burst 
of  grief  is  calmed  into  the  gentle  tear  of  recollection, 
when  the  sudden  anguish  and  the  convulsive  agony- 
over  the  ruins  of  all  that  we  most  loved  is  softened 
away  into  pensive  meditation  on  all  that  it  was  in  the 
days  of  its  loveliness,  who  would  root  out  such  a  sorrow 
from  the  heart? 

"Though  it  may  sometimes  throw  a  passing  cloud 
over  the  bright  hour  of  gayety,  or  spread  a  deeper  sad- 
ness  over  the  hour  of  gloom,  yet  who  would  exchange 
it  even  for  the  song  of  pleasure  or  the  burst  of  revelry? 
No,  there  is  a  voice  from  the  tomb  sweeter  than  song. 
There  is  a  remembrance  of  the  dead  to  which  we  turn 
even  from  the  charms  of  the  living. 

"Oh,  the  grave!  the  grave!  It  buries  every  error, 
covers  every  defect,  extinguishes  every  resentment. 
From  its  peaceful  bosom  spring  none  but  fond  regrets 
and  tender  recollections.  Who  can  look  upon  the  grave 
even  of  an  enemy  and  not  feel  a  compunctious  throb 
that  he  should  ever  have  warred  with  the  poor  handful 
of  earth  that  lies  mouldering  before  him? 

"But  the  grave  of  those  we  loved,  what  a  place  for 
meditation!  There  it  is  that  we  call  up  in  long  review 
the  whole  history  of  virtue  and  gentleness,  and  the 
thousand  endearments  lavished  upon  us  almost  un- 
heeded in  the  daily  intercourse  of  intimacy.  There  it 
is  that  we  dwell  upon  the  tenderness,  the  solemn,  awful 
tenderness  of  the  parting  scene. 

"  The  bed  of  death,  with  all  its  stifled  griefs,  its  noise- 
less attendants,  its  mute,  watchful  assiduities,  the  last 
testimonies  of  expiring  love,  the  feeble,  fluttering,  thrill- 


SORROW  I NG  FOR  THE  BEAD. 


52S- 


ing,  oh,  how  thrilling!  pressure  of  the  hand.  The  last 
fond  look  of  the  glazing  eye,  turning  upon  us  even  from 
the  threshold  of  existence.  The  faint,  faltering  accents 
struggling  in  death  to  give  one  more  assurance  of  affec- 
tion. Ay,  go  to  the  grave  of  buried  love,  and  meditate ! 
There  settle  the  account  with  thy  conscience  for 
every  past  benefit  unrequited,  every  past  endear- 
ment unregarded,  of  that  departed  being  who  can 
never — never  —  never  return  to  be  soothed  by  thy 
contrition! 

"  If  thou  art  a  child,  and  hast  ever  added  a  sorrow  to 
the  soul  or  a  furrow  to  the  silver  brow  of  an  affectionate 
parent;  if  thou  art  a  husband,  and  hast  ever  caused  the 
fond  bosom  that  ventured  its  whole  happiness  in  thy 
arms,  to  doubt  one  moment  of  thy  kindness  or  thy 
truth;  if  thou  art  a  friend,  and  hast  ever  wronged,  in 
thought,  or  word,  or  deed,  the  spirit  that  generously 
confided  in  thee;  if  thou  art  a  lover,  and  hast  given 
one  unmerited  pang  to  that  true  heart  which  now  lies 
cold  and  still  beneath  thy  feet,  then  be  sure  that  every 
unkind  look,  every  ungracious  word,  every  ungentle 
action,  will  come  thronging  back  upon  thy  memory, 
and  knocking  dolefully  at  thy  soul;  then  be  sure  that 
thou  wiit  lie  down  sorrowing  and  repentant  on  the 
grave,  and  utter  the  unheard  groan,  and  pour  the 
unavailing  tear,  more  deep,  more  bitter,  because 
unheard  and  unavailing. 

"Then  weave  thy  chaplet  of  flowers,  and  strew  the 
beauties  of  nature  about  the  grave;  console  thy  broken 
spirit,  if  thou  canst,  with  these  tender,  yet  futile  tributes 
of  regret;  but  take  warning  by  the  bitterness  of  this 
34 


530 


ADVERSITY. 


thy  contrite  affliction  over  the  dead,  and  henceforth  be 
more  faithful  and  affectionate  in  the  discharge  of  thy 
duties  to  the  living." 

The  good  are  better  made  by  ill : — 
As  odors  crush'd  are  sweeter  still ! 

—  Rogers. 

The  harp  holds  in  its  wires  the  possibilities  of  noblest 
chords;  yet,  if  they  be  not  struck,  they  must  hang  dull 
and  useless.  So  the  mind  is  vested  with  a  hundred 
powers,  that  must  be  smitten  by  a  heavy  hand  to  prove 
themselves  the  offspring  of  divinity. 

Welcome,  then,  adversity!  Thy  hand  is  cold  and 
hard,  but  it  is  the  hand  of  a  friena !  Thy  voice  is  stern 
and  harsh,  but  it  is  the  voice  of  a  friend!  There  is 
something  sublime  in  the  resolute,  fixed  purpose  of 
suffering  without  complaining,  which  makes  disappoint- 
ment often  better  than  success. 

As  full  ears  load  and  lay  corn,  so  does  too  much 
fortune  bend  and  break  the  mind.  It  deserves  to  be 
considered,  too,  as  another  advantage,  that  affliction 
moves  pity,  and  reconciles  our  very  enemies;  but  pros- 
perity provokes  envy,  and  loses  us  our  very  friends 
Again,  adversity  is  a  desolate  and  abandoned  state; 
the  generality  of  people  are  like  those  infamous  ani- 
mals that  live  only  upon  plenty  and  rapine;  and  as  rats 


ADVERSITY. 


531 


and  mice  forsake  a  tottering  house,  so  do  these  the 
falling  man.  He  that  has  never  known  adversity  is 
but  half  acquainted  with  others  or  with  himself.  Con- 
stant success  shows  us  but  one  side  of  the  world;  for 
as  it  surrounds  us  with  friends  who  tell  us  only  of  our 
merits,  so  it  silences  those  enemies  from  whom  only  we 
can  learn  our  defects. 

Adversity,  sage,  useful  guest, 
Severe  instructor,  but  the  best; 
It  is  from  thee  alone  we  know 
Justly  to  value  things  below. 

Adversity  exasperates  fools,  dejects  cowards,  draws 
out  the  faculties  of  the  wise  and  industrious,  puts  the 
modest  to  the  necessity  of  trying  their  skill,  awes  the 
opulent,  and  makes  the  idle  industrious.  A  smooth 
sea  never  made  a  skillful  mariner,  neither  do  uninter- 
rupted prosperity  and  success  qualify  men  for  useful- 
ness and  happiness.  The  storms  of  adversity,  like 
those  of  the  ocean,  rouse  the  faculties,  and  excite  the 
invention,  prudence,  skill,  and  fortitude  of  the  voyager. 
The  martyrs  of  ancient  times,  in  bracing  their  minds 
to  outward  calamities,  acquired  a  loftiness  of  purpose 
and  a  moral  heroism  worth  a  lifetime  of  softness  and 
security. 

It  is  good  for  man  that  he  bear  the  yoke  in  his  youth. 
Oaks  are  made  hard  by  strong  discipline.  As  a  glad- 
iator trained  the  body,  so  must  we  train  the  mind  to 
self-sacrifice,  ato  endure  all  things,'7  to  meet  and  over- 
come difficulty  and  danger.  We  must  take  the  rough 
and  thorny  roads  as  well  as  the  smooth  and  pleasant; 


532 


ADVERSITY. 


and  a  portion  at  least  of  our  daily  duty  must  be  hard 
and  disagreeable;  for  the  mind  cannot  be  kept  strong 
and  healthy  in  perpetual  sunshine  only,  and  the  most 
dangerous  of  all  states  is  that  of  constantly  recurring 
pleasure,  ease  and  prosperity. 

It  seems  as  if  man  were  like  the  earth.  It  cannot 
bask  forever  in  sunshine.  The  snows  of  winter  and 
frosts  must  come  and  work  in  the  ground  and  mellow 
it  to  make  them  fruitful.  A  man  upon  whom  continu- 
ous sunshine  falls  is  like  the  earth  in  August ;  he 
becomes  parched  and  dry,  and  hard  and  close-grained. 
To  some  men  the  winter  and  spring  come  when  they 
are  young;  others  are  born  in  summer  and  are  only 
made  fit  to  die  by  a  winter  of  sorrow  coming  to  them 
when  they  are  middle-aged  or  old. 

It  is  not  the  nursling  of  wealth  or  fortune  who  has 
been  dandled  into  manhood  on  the  lap  of  prosperity, 
that  carries  away  the  world's  honors,  or  wins  its 
mightiest  influence ;  but  it  is  rather  the  man  whose 
earlier  years  were  cheered  by  scarcely  a  single  proffer 
of  aid,  or  smile  of  approbation,  and  who  has  drawn 
from  adversity  the  elements  of  greatness.  The  "talent" 
which  prosperity  "folded  in  a  napkin,"  the  rough  hand 
of  adversity  shook  out. 

The  men  who  stand  boldly  for  the  defense  of  the 
truth,  in  the  midst  of  the  flood  of  errors  that  surround 
them,  are  not  the  gentlemen  of  lily  fingers  who  have 
been  rocked  in  the  cradle  of  indulgence  and  caressed 
in  the  lap  of  luxury;  but  they  are  men  whom  necessity 
has  called  from  the  shade  of  retirement  to  contend 
under  the  scorching  rays  of  the  sun,  with  the  scern 


ADVERSITY. 


533 


realities  of  life  with  all  its  vicissitudes.  It  is  good  for 
a  man  that  he  bear  the  yoke  in  his  youth.  The  gem 
cannot  be  polished  without  friction,  nor  man  perfected 
without  adversity. 

The  patient  conquest  of  difficulties  which  rise  in  the 
regular  and  legitimate  channels  of  business  and  enter- 
prise, is  not  only  essential  in  securing  the  successes 
which  you  seek,  but  it  is  essential  to  the  preparation 
of  your  mind  requisite  for  the  enjoyment  of  your  suc- 
cesses and  for  retaining  them  when  gained. 

Adversity  is  the  trial  of  principle.  Without  it  a 
man  hardly  knows  whether  he  is  honest  or  not.  Night 
brings  out  the  stars  as  adversity  shows  us  truths;  we 
never  see  the  stars  till  we  can  see  little  or  naught  else; 
and  thus  it  is  with  truth.  When  you  feel  inclined  to 
cry,  just  change  your  mind  and  laugh.  Nothing  dries 
sooner  than  tears. 

Adversity  certainly  has  its  uses,  and  very  valuable 
ones  too.  It  has  been  truly  remarked  that  many  a 
man,  in  losing  his  fortune,  has  found  himself  and 
ruined  into  salvation.  Adversity  flattereth  no  man. 
Oft  from  apparent  ills  our  blessings  rise.  Who  never 
fasts,  no  banquet  e'er  enjoys.  In  prosperity,  be  humble; 
in  adversity,  cheerful.  If  you  have  the  blues,  go  and 
see  the  poorest  and  sickest  families  within  your  knowl- 
edge. To  bear  the  sharp  afflictions  of  life  like  men, 
we  should  also  feel  them  like  men.  The  darker  the 
setting,  the  brighter  the  diamond.  Probably  we  might 
often  become  reconciled  to  what  we  consider  a  hard 
lot  by  comparing  ourselves  with  the  many  who  want 
what  we  possess  rather  than  with  the  few  who  possess 


534 


DEBT. 


what  we  want.  He  is  happy  vvhose  circumstances  suit 
his  temper;  but  he  is  happier  who  can  suit  his  temper 
to  his  circumstances.  There  is  a  virtue  in  keeping  up 
appearances.  He  is  a  fool  that  grumbles  at  every 
little  mischance.  Put  the  best  foot  forward,  is  an  old 
and  good  maxim.  Do  n't  run  about  and  tell  acquaint- 
ances that  you  have  been  unfortunate;  people  donot 
like  to  have  unfortunate  men  for  acquaintances.  If  the 
storm  of  adversity  whistles  around  you,  whistle  as 
bravely  yourself;  perhaps  the  two  whistles  may  make 
melody. 


But,  while  you  are  generous,  see  to  it  that  you  are 
also  just.  Do  not  give  away  what  does  not  belong  to 
you.  Let  me  warn  you,  on  account  of  its  moral  bear- 
ings, against  debt.  Nothing  more  effectually  robs  one 
of  his  best  energies,  takes  the  bloom,  from  his  cheek 
and  peace  from  his  pillow,  than  pecuniary  obligations. 
And  that  is  not  all,  nor  the  worst;  debt  is  a  foe  to  a 
man's  honesty.  Avoid  all  meanness;  but  shun  as  a 
pestilence  the  habit  of  running  thoughtlessly  into  debt. 
Let  your  expenses  be  always  short  of  your  income. 

"Of  what  a  hideous  progeny  of  ill,"  says  Douglas 
Jerrold,  "is  debt  the  father!  What  meanness,  what 
invasions  of  self-respect,  what  cares,  what  double-deal- 
ing!   How  in  due  season,  it  will  carve  the  frank,  cpen 


DEBT. 


535 


face  into  wrinkles;  how  like  a  knife  it  will  stab  the 
honest  heart.  And  then  its  transformations.  How  it 
has  been  known  to  change  a  goodly  face  into  a  mask 
of  brass;  how  with  the  evil  custom  of  debt,  has  the 
true  man  become  a  callous  trickster!  A  freedom  from 
debt,  and  what  nourishing  sweetness  may  be  found  in 
cold  water;  what  toothsomeness  in  a  dry  crust;  what 
ambrosial  nourishment  in  a  hard  egg!  Be*  sure  of  it, 
he  who  dines  out  of  debt,  though  his  meal  be  a  biscuit 
and  an  onion,  dines  in  'The  Apollo.'  And  then,  for 
raiment,  what  warmth  in  a  threadbare  coat,  if  the 
tailor's  receipt  be  in  your  pocket!  what  Tyrian  purple 
in  the  faded  waistcoat,  the  vest  not  owed  for;  how 
glossy  the  well  worn  hat,  if  it  covers  not  the  aching 
head  of  a  debtor!  Next  the  home  sweets,  the  out- 
door recreation  of  the  free  man.  The  street  door  falls 
not  a  knell  on  his  heart;  the  foot  of  the  staircase, 
though  he  lives  on  the  third  pair,  sends  no  spasms 
through  his  anatomy;  at  the  rap  of  his  door  he  can 
crow  'come  in,'  and  his  pulse  still  beats  healthfully,  his 
heart  sinks  not  in  his  bowels.  See  him  abroad!  How 
he  returns  look  for  look  with  any  passenger;  how  he 
saunters;  now  meeting  an  acquaintance,  he  stands  and 
gossips,  but  then  this  man  knows  no  debt;  debt  that 
casts  a  drug  in  the  richest  wine;  that  makes  the  food 
of  the  gods  unwholesome,  indigestible;  that  sprinkles 
the  banquets  of  a  Lucullus  with  ashes,  and  drops  soot 
in  the  soup  of  an  emperor;  debt  that  like  the  moth, 
makes  valueless  furs  and  velvets,  enclosing  the  wearer 
in  a  festering  prison,  (the  shirt  of  Nessus  was  a  shirt 
not  paid  for;)  debt  that  writes  upon  frescoed  halls  the 


536 


DEBT. 


handwriting  of  the  attorney;  that  puts  a  voice  of 
terror  in  the  knocker;  that  makes  the  heart  quake 
at  the  haunted  fireside;  debt,  the  invisible  demon 
that  walks  abroad  with  a  man,  now  quickening  his 
steps,  now  making  him  look  on  all  sides  like  a  hunted 
beast,  and  now  bringing  to  his  face  the  ashy  hue  of 
death  as  the  unconscious  passenger  looks  glancingly 
upon  him!  Poverty  is  a  bitter  draught,  yet  may, 
and  sometimes  can,  with  advantage,  be  gulped  down. 
Though  the  drinker  makes  wry  faces,  there  may, 
after  all,  be  a  wholesome  goodness  in  the  cup.  But 
debt,  however  courteously  it  may  be  offered,  is  the 
cup  of  Syren;  and  the  wine,  spiced  and  delicious 
though  it  be,  is  poison.  The  man  out  of  debt,  though 
with  a  flaw  in  his  jerkin,  a  crack  in  his  shoe  leather, 
and  a  hole  in  his  hat,  is  still  the  son  of  liberty,  free  as 
the  singing  lark  above  him;  but  the  debtor,  although 
clothed  in  the  utmost  bravery,  what  is  he  but  a  serf 
out  upon  a  holiday — a  slave  to  be  reclaimed  at  any 
instant  by  his  owner,  the  creditor?  My  son,  if  poor, 
see  Hyson  in  the  running  spring;  see  thy  mouth  water 
at  a  last  week's  roll;  think  a  threadbare  coat  the  only 
wear;  and  acknowledge  a  whitewashed  garret  the 
fittest  housing  place  for  a  gentleman;  do  this,  and 
flee  debt.  So  shall  thy  heart  be  at  rest  and  the 
sheriff  confounded." 

Somebody  truly  says  that  one  debt  begets  another. 
If  a  man  owes  you  a  dollar,  he  is  sure  to  owe  you  a 
grudge,  too,  and  he  is  generally  more  ready  to  pay 
interest  on  the  latter  than  on  the  former.  Contracting 
debts  is  not  unlike  the  man  who  goes  to  sea  without  a 


DEBT. 


537 


compass  —  he  may  steer  clear  of  rocks,  sandbars,  a 
lee  shore,  and  breakers,  but  the  chances  are  greatly 
against  him;  and,  if  he  runs  foul  of  either,  ten  to  one 
he  is  lost.  The  present  indiscriminate  credit  system  is 
a  labyrinth,  the  entrance  is  easy,  but  how  to  get  out  — 
that's  the  question.  It  is  an  endless  chain,  and  if  one 
link  breaks  in  a  particular  community,  it  degrades  the 
whole.  The  concussion  may  break  many  more,  create 
a  panic,  and  the  chain  become  useless.  If  this  mis- 
fortune would  cure  the  evil,  it  would  be  a  blessing  in 
disguise;  but  so  deeply  rooted  is  this  system  among  us, 
that  no  sooner  is  one  chain  destroyed  than  another  is 
manufactured  ;  an  increasing  weight  is  put  upon  it ; 
presently  some  of  its  links  snap,  another  concussion  is 
produced,  and  creates  a  new  panic ;  car  after  car 
rushes  down  the  inclined  plane  of  bankruptcy,  increas* 
ing  trie  mass  of  broken  fragments  and  general  ruin,  all 
so  commingled  that  a  Philadelphia  lawyer,  aided  by 
constables  and  sheriffs,  can  bring  but  little  order  out 
of  the  confusion.  At  the  outset,  especially  among 
merchants,  a  ruinous  tax  is  imposed  by  this  s}"stem 
upon  the  vendor  and  vendee.  The  seDer,  in  addition 
to  a  fair  profit  for  cash  in  hand,  adds  a  larger  per  cent, 
to  meet  losses  from  bad  debts,  but  which  often  falls 
far  short  of  the  mark.  Each  purchaser,  who  is  ulti- 
mately able  to  pay,  bears  the  proportionate  burden 
of  this  tax,  and  both  contribute  large  sums  to  indulge 
those  who  cannot,  and  what  is  worse,  those  wha  never 
intend  to  pay ;  thus  encouraging  fraud.  On  *^ery 
hand  we  see  people  living  on  credit,  putting  off  pay 
day  to  the  last,  making  in  the  end  some  desperate 


538 


FAILURE. 


effort,  either  by  begging  or  borrowing,  to  scrape  the 
money  together,  and  then  struggling  on  again,  with 
the  canker  of  care  eating  at  their  heart,  to  the  inevi- 
table goal  of  bankruptcy.  If  people  would  only  make 
a  push  at  the  beginning,  instead  of  the  end,  they  would 
save  themselves  all  this  misery.  The  great  secret 
of  being  solvent,  and  well-to-do,  and  comfortable,  is  to 
get  ahead  of  your  expenses.  Eat  and  drink  this  month 
what  you  earned  last  month — -not  what  you  are  going 
to  earn  next  month.  There  are,  no  doubt,  many  per- 
sons so  unfortunately  situated  that  they  can  never 
accomplish  this.  No  man  can  to  a  certainty  guard 
against  ill  health;  no  man  can  insure  himself  a  well- 
conducted,  helpful  family,  or  a  permanent  income. 
Friendships  are  broken  over  debts;  forgeries  and  mur- 
ders are  committed  on  their  account ;  and,  however 
considered,  they  are  a  source  of  cost  and  annoyance  — 
and  that  continually.  They  break  in  everywhere  upon 
the  harmonious  relations  of  men ;  they  render  men 
servile  or  tyrannous,  as  they  chance  to  be  debtors  or 
creditors ;  they  blunt  sensitiveness  to  personal  inde- 
pendence, and,  in  no  respect  that  we  can  fathom,  do 
they  advance  the  general  well-being. 


In  every  community  there  are  men  who  are  deter- 
mined not  to  work  if  work  can  be  shirked.  Without 


FAILURE. 


539 


avowing  this  determination  to  themselves,  or  reflecting 
that  they  are  fighting  against  a  law  of  nature,  they 
begin  life  with  a  resolution  to  enjoy  all  the  good  things 
that  are  accumulated  by  the  labor  of  man,  without 
contributing  their  own  share  of  labor  to  the  common 
stock.  Hence  the  endless  schemes  for  getting  rich  in 
a  day — for  reaching  the  goal  of  wealth  by  a  few 
gigantic  bounds,  instead  of  by  slow  and  plodding  steps. 
It  matters  not  in  what  such  men  deal,  whether  in 
oroide  watches  or  in  watered  stock;  whether  they 
make  "corners"  in  wheat  or  in  gold;  whether  they 
gamble  in  oats  or  at  roulette;  whether  they  steal  a 
railway  or  a  man's  money  by  "  gift-concerts " — the 
principle  is  in  all  cases  the  same,  namely,  to  obtain 
something  for  nothing,  to  get  values  without  parting 
with  anything  in  exchange.  Everybody  knows  the 
history  of  such  men,  the  vicissitudes  they  experience  — 
vicissitudes  rendering  the  millionaire  of  to-day  a  beg- 
gar to-morrow. 

Firms  are  constantly  changing.  Splendid  mansions 
change  hands  suddenly.  A  brilliant  party  is  held  in 
an  up-town  house,  the  sidewalk  is  carpeted,  and  the 
papers  are  full  of  the  brilliant  reception.  The  next 
season  the  house  will  be  dismantled,  and  a  family, 
"going  into  the  country,"  or  "to  Europe,"  will  offer 
their  imported  furniture  to  the  public  under  the  ham- 
mer. A  brilliant  equipage  is  seen  in  the  parks  in  the 
early  part  of  the  season,  holding  gaily  dressed  ladies 
and  some  successful  speculators.  Before  the  season 
closes  some  government  officer  or  sporting  man  will 
drive  that  team  on  his  own  account,  while  the  gay 


540 


FAILURE. 


party  that  called  the  outfit  their  own  in  the  eariy  part 
of  the  season  have  passed  away  forever.  This  grows 
out  of  the  manner  in  which  business  is  done.  There 
is  no  thrift,  no  forecast,  no  thought  for  the  morrow. 
A  man  who  makes  fifty  thousand  dollars,  instead  of 
settling  half  of  it  on  his  wife  and  children,  throws  the 
whole  into  a  speculation  with  the  expectation  of  making 
it  a  hundred  thousand.  A  successful  dry  goods  jobber, 
wrho  has  a  balance  of  seventy-five  thousand  dollars  to 
his  credit  in  the  bank,  instead  of  holding  it  for  a  wet 
day  or  a  tight  time,  goes  into  a  little  stock  speculation 
and  hopes  to  make  a  fortune  at  a  strike.  Men  who 
have  a  good  season  launch  out  into  extravagancies  and 
luxuries,  and  these,  with  the  gambling  mania,  invariably 
carry  people  under. 

A  gentleman,  who  had  a  very  successful  trade,  built 
him  an  extraordinary  country  seat  in  Westchester 
county,  which  was  the  wonder  of  the  age.  His  house 
was  more  costly  than  the  palace  of  the  Duke  of  Buc- 
cleuch.  His  estate  comprised  several  acres  laid  out  in 
the  most  expensive  manner,  and  the  whole  was  encir- 
cled with  gas  lights,  several  hundred  in  number,  which 
were  lit  every  evening.  As  might  have  been  expected, 
with  the  first  reverse,  (and  it  comes  sooner  or  later  to 
all,)  the  merchant  was  crushed,  and  as  he  thought  dis- 
graced; and  he  was  soon  carried  to  his  sepulchre,  the 
wife  obliged  to  leave  her  luxurious  home,  and  by  the 
kindness  of  creditors  was  allowed,  with  her  children, 
to  find  temporary  refuge  in  the  coachman's  loft  in  her 
stable. 

Americans  are  always  in  a  hurry  when  they  have  an 


FAILURE.  541 

object  to  accomplish;  but  if  there  is  any  vocation  or 
pursuit  in  which  gradual,  slow-coach  processes  are 
scouted  with  peculiar  de  'station,  it  is  that  of  acquir- 
ing riches.  Especially  is  this  true  at  the  present  day, 
when  fortunes  are  continually  changing  hands,  and 
men  are  so  often,  by  a  lucky  turn  of  the  wheel,  lifted 
from  the  lowest  depths  of  poverty  to  the  loftiest  pin- 
nacle of  wealth  and  affluence.  Exceptional  persons 
there  are,  who  are  content  with  slow  gains  —  willing 
to  accumulate  riches  by  adding  penny  to  penny,  dollar 
to  dollar;  but  the  mass  of  business  men  are  too  apt 
to  despise  such  a  tedious,  laborious  ascent  of  the  steep 
of  fortune,  and  to  rush  headlong  into  schemes  for  the 
sudden  acquisition  of  wealth.  Hence  honorable  labor 
is  too  often  despised;  a  man  of  parts  is  expected  to  be 
above  hard  work. 

There  is,  with  a  great  majority  of  men,  a  want  of 
constancy  in  whatever  plans  they  undertake.  They 
toil  as  though  they  doubted  that  life  had  earnest  and 
decided  pathways;  as  though  there  was  no  compass 
but  the  shifting  winds,  with  each  of  which  they  must 
change  their  course.  Thus  they  beat  about  on  the 
ocean  of  time,  but  never  cross  it,  to  rest  on  delightful 
islands  or  mainlands. 


542 


DESPAIR. 


No  calamity  can  produce  such  paralysis  of  the  mind 
as  despair.  It  is  the  cap  stone  of  the  climax  of  human 
anguish.  The  mental  powers  are  frozen  with  indiffer- 
ence, the  heart  becomes  ossified  with  melancholy,  the 
soul  is  shrouded  in  a  cloud  of  gloom.  No  words  of 
consolation,  no  cheerful  repartee,  can  break  the  death- 
like calm ;  no  love  can  warm  the  pent-up  heart ;  no 
sunbeams  dispel  the  dark  clouds.  Time  may  effect  a 
change ;  death  will  break  the  monotony.  We  can 
extend  our  kindness,  but  cannot  relieve  the  victim. 
We  may  trace  the  causes  of  this  awful  disease;  God 
only  can  effect  a  cure.  We  may  speculate  upon  its 
nature,  but  cannot  feel  its  force  until  its  iron  hand  is 
laid  upon  us.  We  may  call  it  weakness,  but  cannot 
prove  or  demonstrate  the  proposition.  We  may  call  it 
folly,  but  can  point  to  no  frivolity  to  sustain  our 
position.  W e  may  call  it  madness,  but  can  discover 
no  maniac  actions.  We  may  call  it  stubbornness,  but 
can  see  no  exhibitions  of  indocility.  We  may  call  it 
lunacy,  but  cannot  perceive  the  incoherences  of  that 
unfortunate  condition.  We  can  call  it,  properly,  noth- 
ing but  dark,  gloomy  despair,  an  undefined  and  unde- 
finable  paralyzation  of  all  the  sensibilities  that  render  a 
man  happy,  and  capable  of  imparting  happiness  to  those 
around  him.  It  is  a  state  of  torpid  dormacy,  rather 
than  a  mental  derangement  of  the  cerebral  organs. 

Me  miserable !  which  way  shall  I  fly- 
Infinite  wrath,  and  infinite  despair? 


DESPAIR. 


543 


Which  way  I  fly  is  hell;  myself  am  hell? 
And  in  the  lowest  deep  a  lower  deep 
Still  threat'ning  to  devour  me  opens  wide, 
To  which  the  hell  I  suffer  seems  a  heaven. 

— Milton. 

It  is  induced  by  a  false  estimate  of  things,  and  of  the 
dispensations  and  government  of  the  God  of  mercy. 
Disappointments,  losses,  severe  and  continued  afflic- 
tions, sudden  transition  from  wealth  to  poverty,  the 
death  of  dear  friends,  may  cast  a  gloom  over  the  mind 
that  does  not  correctly  comprehend  the  great  first 
cause,  and  see  the  hand  of  God  in  every  thing,  and 
produce  a  state  of  despair,  because  these  things  are 
viewed  in  a  false  mirror.  Fanaticism  in  religious 
meetings  has  produced  the  most  obstinate  and  melan- 
choly cases  of  despair  that  have  come  under  m'y  own 
observation.  Intelligence,  chastened  by  religion,  are 
the  surest  safeguards  against  this  state  of  misery ; 
ignorance,  and  vice  are  its  greatest  promoters.  Despair 
is  the  destruction  of  all  hope,  the  deathless  sting  that 
refines  the  torment  of  the  finally  impenetent  and  lost. 
It  is  that  undying  worm,  that  unquenchable  fire,  so 
graphically  described  in  holy  writ. 

Remember  this,  that  God  always  helps  those  that 
help  themselves,  that  he  never  forsakes  those  who  are 
good  and  true,  and  that  he  heareth  even  the  young 
Tc  vens  when  they  cry.  Moreover,,  remember  too,  that 
come  what  may,  we  must  never  give  up  in  life's  battle, 
but  press  onward  to  the  end,  always  keeping  in  mind 
the  words — never  despair. 

Despair  is  the  death  of  the  soul.    If  we  will  sympa- 


544  STEPPING  STONES. 

thize  with  God's  system  of  salvation,  there  is  no  occa- 
sion for  despondency  or  a  feeling  of  condemnation,  as 
we  discover  our  defects  from  time  to  time;  but,  on  the 
other  hand,  of  cheerful  hopefulness,  and  confidence 
of  this  very  thing,  that  u  He  who  hath  begun  a  good 
work  in  us  will  perform  it  until  the  day  of  Jesus  Christ" 


Stepping  stones  are  advantages,  auxiliaries,  powerT 
etc.,  and  these  are  attained  in  no  other  way  than 
through  personal  experiences.  Our  trials  of  life 
strengthen  us ;  discouragements,  disappointments,  mis- 
fortunes, failures,  adversities,  and  calamities,  are  all 
stepping  stones  for  us;  each  successive  victory  raises 
us  higher  in  strength  and  power.  It  is  through 
trials  that  stout  hearts  are  made.  It  is  through 
adversities  that  our  patience  and  courage  are  increased. 

Men  are  frequently  like  tea — the  real  strength  and 
goodness  is  not  properly  drawn  out  of  them  .till  they 
have  been  a  short  time  in  hot  water.  The  ripest  fruit 
grows  on  the  roughest  wall.  It  is  the  small  wheels  of 
the  carriage  that  come  in  first.  The  man  who  holds 
the  ladder  at  the  bottom  is  frequently  of  more  service 
than  he  who  is  stationed  at  the  top  of  it.  The  turtle, 
though  brought  in  at  a  rear  gate,  takes  the  head  of  the 
table.  "Better  to  be  the  cat  in  the  philanthropists 
family  than  a  mutton  pie  at  a  king's  banquet." 


STEPPING  STONES. 


545 


He  who  bears  adversity  well  gives  the  best  evidence 
that  he  will  not  be  spoiled  by  prosperity.  It  has  been 
truly  remarked  that  many  a  man,  in  losing  his  fortune, 
has  found  himself.  Adversity  flattereth  no  man.  Oft 
from  apparent  ills  our  blessings  rise.  Who  never  fasts, 
no  banquet  e'er  enjoys.  Adversity  exasperates  fools, 
dejects  cowards,  draws  out  the  faculties  of  the  wise 
and  industrious,  puts  the  modest  to  the  necessity  of 
trying  their  skill,  awes  the  opulent,  and  makes  the  idle 
industrious.  Many  a  promising  reputation  has  been 
destroyed  by  early  success.  It  is  far  from  being  true, 
in  the  progress  of  knowledge,  that  after  ever}7  failure 
we  must  recommence  from  the  beginning.  Every 
failure  is  a  step  to  success;  every  detection  of  what  is 
/  false  directs  us  toward  what  is  true ;  every  trial 
exhausts  some  tempting  form  of  error.  Not  only  so, 
but  scarcely  any  attempt  is  entirely  a  failure;  scarcely 
any  theory,  the  result  of  steady  thought,  is  altogether 
false;  no  tempting  form  of  error  is  without  some  latent 
charm  derived  from  truth. 

Doubtless  a  deeper  feeling  of  individual  responsi- 
bility, and  a  better  adaptation  of  talent  to  its  fields  of 
labor,  are  necessary  to  bring  about  a  better  state  of 
society,  and  a  better  condition  for  the  individual  mem- 
bers of  it.  But  with  the  most  careful  adaptation  of 
talent  and  means  to  pursuits,  no  man  can  succeed,  as  a 
general  principle,  who  has  not  a  fixed  and  resolute 
purpose  in  his  mind,  and  an  unwavering  faith  that  he 
can  carry  that  purpose  out. 

Man  is  born  a  hero,  and  it  is  only  by  darkness  and 
storms  that  heroism  gains  its  greatest  and  best  develop- 
35 


STEPPING  STONES. 


ment  and  illustration;  then  it  kindles  the  black  cloud 
into  a  blaze  of  glory,  and  the  storm  bears  it  rapidly  to 
its  destiny.  Despair  not,  then,  disappointment  will  be 
realized.  Mortifying  failure  may  attend  this  effort  and 
that  one;  but  only  be  honest  and  struggle  on,  and  it 
will  all  work  well. 

What  though  once  supposed  friends  have  disclaimed 
and  deserted  you — fortune,  the  jade,  deceived  you  — 
and  the  stern  tyrant,  adversity,  roughly  asserted  his 
despotic  power  to  trample  you  down?  "  While  there's 
life  there's  hope."  Has  detraction's  busy  tongue 
assailed  thy  peace,  and  contumely's  venomed  shaft 
poisoned  thy  happiness,  by  giving  reputation  its  death 
blow ;  destroyed  thy  confidence  in  friendly  promise, 
and  rendered  thee  suspicious  of  selfishness  in  the  exhi- 
bition of  brotherly  kindness ;  or  the  tide  of  public 
opinion  well  nigh  overwhelmed  you  'neath  its  angry 
waves?  Never  despair.  Yield  not  to  the  influence  of 
sadness,  the  blighting  power  of  dejection,  which  sinks 
you  in  degrading  inaction,  or  drives  you  to  seek  relief 
in  some  fatal  vice,  or  to  drown  recollection  in  the 
poisoning  bowl.  Arouse,  and  shake  the  oppressive 
burden  from  overpowering  thee.  Quench  the  stings 
of  slander  in  the  waters  of  Lethe;  bury  despondency 
in  oblivion;  fling  melancholy  to  the  winds,  and  with 
firm  bearing  and  a  stout  heart  push  on  to  the  attain- 
ment of  a  higher  goal.  The  open  field  for  energetic 
action  is  large,  and  the  call  for  vigorous  laborers 
immensely  exceed  the  supply.  Much  precious  time  is 
squandered,  valuable  labor  lost,  mental  activity  stupi- 
fied  and  deadened  by  vain  regrets,  useless  repinings, 


PRAYER. 


547 


and  unavailing  idleness.  The  appeal  for  volunteers  in 
the  great  battle  of  life,  in  exterminating  ignorance  and 
error,  and  planting  high  on  an  everlasting  foundation 
the  banner  of  intelligence  and  right,  is  directed  to  you, 
would  you  but  grant  it  audience.  Let  no  cloud  again 
darken  thy  spirit,  or  weight  of  sadness  oppress  thy 
heart.  Arouse  ambition's  smouldering  fires.  The 
laurel  may  e'en  now  be  wreathed  destined  to  grace 
thy  brow.  Burst  the  trammels  that  impeed  thy  pro- 
gress, and  cling  to  hope.  The  world  frowned  darkly 
upon  all  who  have  ever  yet  won  fame's  wreath,  but  on 
they  toiled.  Place  high  thy  standard,  and  with  a  firm 
tread  and  fearless  eye  press  steadily  onward.  Perse- 
vere, and  thou  wilt  surely  reach  it.  Are  there  those 
/  who  have  watched,  unrewarded,  through  long  sorrow- 
ful years,  for  the  dawning  of  a  brighter  morrow,  when 
the  weary  soul  should  calmly  rest?  Hope's  bright 
rays  still  illume  their  dark  pathways,  and  cheerfully 
yet  they  watch.  Never  despair!  Faint  not,  though 
thy  task  be  heavy,  and  victory  is  thine.  None  should 
despair;  God  can  help  them.  None  should  presume; 
God  can  cross  them. 


Prayer  is  an  action  of  likeness  to  the  Holy  Ghost, 
the  spirit  of  gentleness  and  dove-like  simplicity;  an 
imitation  ■  of  the  holy  Jesus,  whose  spirit  is  meek,  up 


548 


PRAYER. 


to  the  greatness  of  the  biggest  example;  and  a  con- 
formity to  God,  whose  anger  is  always  just,  and 
marches  slowly,  and  is  without  transportation,  and 
often  hindered,  and  never  hasty,  and  is  full  of  mercy. 
Prayer  is  the  peace  of  our  spirit,  the  stillness  of  our 
thoughts,  the  evenness  of  recollection,  the  seat  of 
meditation,  the  rest  of  our  cares,  and  the  calm  of  our 
tempest;  prayer  is  the  issue  of  a  quiet  mind,  of  un- 
troubled thoughts;  it  is  the  daughter  of  charity,  and 
the  sister  of  meekness;  and  he  that  prays  to  God  with 
an  angry,  that  is,  with  a  troubled  and  discomposed 
spirit,  is  like  him  that  retires  into  a  battle  to  meditate^ 
and  sets  up  his  closet  in  the  out-quarters  of  an  arrny^ 
and  chooses  a  frontier  garrison  to  be  wise  in.  Anger 
is  a  perfect  alienation  of  the  mind  from  prayer,  and 
therefore  is  contrary  to  that  attention  which  presents 
our  prayers  in  a  right  line  to  God.  For  so  have  I  seen 
a  lark  rising  from  his  bed  of  grass,  and  soaring  upward, 
singing  as  he  rises,  and  hopes  to  get  to  heaven,  and 
climb  above  the  clouds;  but  the  poor  bird  was  beaten 
back  with  the  loud  sighings  of  an  eastern  wind,  and 
his  motion  made  irregular  and  inconstant,  descending 
more  at  every  breath  of  the  tempest  than  it  could 
recover  by  the  libration  and  frequent  weighing  of  his 
wings;  till  the  little  creature  was  forced  to  sit  down 
and  pant,  and  stay  till  the  storm  was  over;  and  then 
it  made  a  prosperous  flight,  and  did  rise  and  sing  as 
if  it  had  learned  music  and  motion  from  an  angel,  as 
he  passed  sometimes  through  the  air  about  his  minis- 
tries here  below:  so  is  the  prayer  of  a  good  man: 
When  his  affairs  have  required  business,  and  his  busi- 


PRATER. 


549 


ness  was  matter  of  discipline,  and  his  discipline  was 
to  pass  upon  a  sinning  person,  or  had  a  design  of 
charity,  his  duty  met  with  the  infirmaries  of  a  man, 
and  anger  was  its  instrument,  and  the  instrument 
became  stronger  than  the  prime  agent,  and  raised  a 
tempest,  and  overruled  the  man;  and  then  his  prayer 
was  broken,  and  his  thoughts  were  troubled,  and  his 
words  went  up  toward  a  cloud,  and  his  thoughts  pulled 
them  back  again,  and  made  them  without  intention, 
and  the  good  man  sighs  for  his  infirmity,  but  must  be 
content  to  lose  the  prayer,  and  he  must  recover  it 
when  his  anger  is  removed,  and  his  spirit  is  becalmed, 
made  even  as  the  brow  of  Jesus,  and  smooth  like  the 
heart, of  God;  and  then  it  ascends  to  heaven  upon  the 
wings  of  the  holy  dove,  and  dwells  with  God,  till  it 
returns,  like  the  useful  bee,  laden  with  a  blessing  and 
the  dew  of  heaven. 

God  respecteth  not  the  arithmetic  of  our  prayers, 
how  many  they  are;  nor  the  rhetoric  of  our  prayers, 
how  neat  they  are;  nor  the  geometry  of  our  prayers, 
how  long  they  are;  nor  the  music  of  our  prayers,  how 
melodious  they  are;  nor  the  logic  of  our  pra}^ers,  how 
methodical  they  are — but  the  divinity  of  our  prayers, 
how  heart-sprung  they  are.  Not  gifts,  but  graces, 
prevail  in  prayer.  Perfect  prayers,  without  a  spot  or 
blemish,  though  not  one  word  be  spoken,  and  no 
phrases  known  to  mankind  be  tampered  with,  always 
pluck  the  heart  out  of  the  earth  and  move  it  softly 
like  a  censer,  to  and  fro,  beneath  the  face  of  heaven. 

Prayer  is  a  constant  source  of  invigoration  to  self- 
discipline  ;  not  the  thoughtless  praying,  which  is  a  thing 


550 


PRATER. 


of  custom,  but  that  which  is  sincere,  intense,  watchfuL 
Let  a  man  ask  himself  whether  he  really  would  have 
the  thing  he  prays  for ;  let  him  think,  while  he  is 
praying  for  a  spirit  of  forgiveness,  whether,  even  at 
that  moment,  he  is  disposed  to  give  up  the  luxury  of 
anger.  If  not,  what  a  horrible  mockery  it  is!  Do  not 
say  you  have  no  convenient  place  to  pray  in.  Any 
man  can  find  a  place  private  enough,  if  he  is  disposed. 
Our  Lord  prayed  on  a  mountain,  Peter  on  the  house- 
top, Isaac  in  the  field,  Nathaniel  under  the  fig-tree,. 
Jonah  in  the  whale's  belly.  Any  place  may  become 
a  closet,  an  oratory,  and  a  Bethel,  and  be  to  us  the 
presence  of  God. 

To  present  a  petition  is  one  thing;  to  prosecute  a 
suit  is  another.  Most  prayers  answer  to  the  former; 
but  successful  prayer  corresponds  to  the  latter.  God's 
people  frequently  lodge  their  petition  in  the  court  of 
heaven,  and  there  they  let  it  lie.  They  do  not  press 
their  suit.  They  do  not  employ  other  means  of  fur- 
thering it  beyond  the  presenting  of  it.  The  whole  of 
prayer  does  not  consist  in  taking  hold  of  God.  The 
main  matter  is  holding  on.  How  many  are  induced 
by  the  slightest  appearance  of  repulse  to  let  go,  as 
Jacob  did  not !  We  have  been  struck  with  the  manner 
in  which  petitions  are  usually  concluded  —  "And  your 
petitioners  will  ever  pray."  So  "men  ought  always 
pray  (to  God)  and  never  faint."  Payson  says,  "The 
promise  of  God  is  not  to  the  act,  but  to  the  habit  of 
prayer." 

Though  prayer  should  be  the  key  of  the  day,  and 
the  lock  of  the  night,  yet  we  hold  it  more  needful  in  the 


PRAT  Eli. 


551 


morning,  than  when  our  bodies  do  take  their  repose. 
For  howsoever  sleep  be  the  image  or  shadow  of 
death — and  when  the  shadow  is  so  near,  the  sub- 
stance cannot  be  far — yet  a  man  at  rest  in  his  cham- 
ber is  like  a  sheep  unpenned  in  the  fold;  subject  only 
to  the  unavoidable  and  more  immediate  hand  of  God: 
whereas  in  the  day,  when  he  roves  abroad  in  the  open 
and  wide  pastures,  he  is  then  exposed  to  many  more 
unthought-of  accidents,  that  contingently  and  casually 
occur  in  the  way:  retiredness  is  more  safe  than  busi- 
ness: who  believes  not  a  ship  securer  in  the  bay  than 
in  the  midst  of  the  boiling  ocean?  Besides,  the  morn- 
ing to  the  day,  is  as  youth  to  the  life  of  a  man:  if  that 
be  begun  well,  commonly  his  age  is  virtuous:  other- 
wise, God  accepts  not  the  latter  service,  when  his 
enemy  joys  in  the  first  dish.  Why  should  God  take 
the  dry  bones,  when  the  devil  hath  sucked  the  marrow 
out? 

Not  a  few,  too,  owe  their  escape  from  skepticism 
and  infidelity  to  its  sacred  influence.  Said  the  noted 
John  Randolph,  "I  once  took  the  French  side  in  pol- 
itics; and  I  should  have  been  a  French  atheist,  if  it 
had  not  been  for  one  recollection;  and  that  was  the 
memory  of  the  time  when  my  departed  mother  used 
to  take  my  little  hands  in  hers,  and  cause  me  on  my 
knees  to  say,  'Our  Father,  who  art  in  heaven.'" 

"The  parents  pair  their  secret  homage, 
And  offer  up  to  heaven  the  warm  request, 
That  He  who  stills  the  raven's  clamorous  nest, 

And  decks  the  lily  fair  in  flowery  pride, 
Would,  in  the  way  His  wisdom  sees  the  best, 

For  them  and  for  their  little  ones  provide." 


552 


THE  BE  IS  A  GOD. 


There  is  a  God !  The  herbs  of  the  valley,  the 
cedars  of  the  mountain,  bless  him  :  the  insect  sports  in 
his  beam ;  the  bird  sings  him  in  the  foliage ;  the 
thunder  proclaims  him  in  the  heavens ;  the  ocean 
declares  his  immensity:  man  alone  has  said,  tk There  is 
no  God  ! "  Unite  in  thought  at  the  same  instant  the 
most  beautiful  objects  in  nature.  Suppose  that  you  see 
at  once  all  the  hours  of  the  day.  and  ail  the  seasons  of 
the  year :  a  morning  of  spring,  and  a  morning  of 
autumn ;  a  night  bespangled  with  stars,  and  a  night 
darkened  by  clouds  ;  meadows  enameled  with  flowers; 
forests  hoary  with  snow:  fields  gilded  by  the  tints  of 
autumn;  then  alone  you  will  have  a  just  conception  of 
the  universe !  While  vou  are  gazing  Qn  that  sui\ 
which  is  plunging  into  the  vault  of  the  west,  another 
observer  admires  him  emerging  from  the  gilded  gates 
of  the  east.  By  what  inconceivable  power  does  that 
aged  star,  which  is  sinking,  fatigued  and  burning,  in 
the  shades  of  the  evening,  reappear  at  the  same  instant 
fresh  and  humid  with  the  rosy  dew  of  the  morning  ? 
At  every  hour  of  the  day  the  glorious  orb  is  at  once 
rising,  resplendent  as  noon-day,  and  setting  in  the 
west ;  or  rather,  our  senses  deceive  us,  and  there  is, 
properly  speaking,  no  east  or  west,  no  north  or  south, 
in  the  world. 

Go  out  beneath  the  arched  heavens,  at  night,  and 
say,  if  you  can,  "There  is  no  God!"  Pronounce  that 
dreadful  blasphemy,  and  each  star  above  you  will 


THERE  IS  A  GOB. 


553 


reproach  the  unbroken  darkness  of  your  intellect  ; 
fevery  voice  that  floats  upon  the  night  winds  will  bewail 
your  utter  hopelessness  and  folly. 

Is  there  no  God  ?  Who,  then,  unrolled  the  blue 
scroll,  and  threw  upon  its  high  frontispiece  the  legible 
gleamings  of  immortality?  Who  fashioned  this  green 
earth,  with  its  perpetual  rolling  waters,  and  its  wide 
expanse  of  islands  and  of  main  ?  Who  settled  the 
foundations  of  the  mountains  ?  Who  paved  the  heavens 
with  clouds,  and  attuned,  amid  the  clamor  of  storms, 
the  voice  of  thunders,  and  unchained  the  lightnings 
that  flash  in  their  gloom? 

Who  gave  to  the  eagle  a  safe  eyrie  where  the  tem- 
pests dwell,  and  beat  the  strongest,  and  to  the  dove  a 
tranquil  abode  amid  the  forests  that  echo  to  the  minis- 
trelsy  of  her  moan?  Who  made  thee,  O  man  !  with 
thy  perfected  elegance  of  intellect  and  form  ?  Who 
made  the  light  pleasant  to  thee,  and  the  darkness  a 
covering,  and  a  herald  to  the  first  gorgeous  flashes 
of  the  morning  ? 

There  is  a  God.  All  nature  declares  it  in  a  language 
too  plain  to  be  misapprehended.  The  great  truth  is 
too  legibly  written  over  the  face  of  the  whole  creation 
to  be  easily  mistaken.  Thou  canst  behold  it  in  the 
tender  blade  just  starting  from  the  earth  in  the  early 
spring,  or  in  the  sturdy  oak  that  has  withstood  the 
blasts  of  fourscore  winters.  The  purling  rivulet,  me- 
andering through  downy  meads  and  verdant  glens, 
and  Niagara's  tremendous  torrent,  leaping  over  its 
awful  chasm,  and  rolling  in  majesty  its  broad  sheet 


554 


THERE  IS  A  GOB. 


of  waters  onward  to  the  ocean,  unite  in  proclaiming — 
"There  is  a  God." 

'Tis  heard  in  the  whispering  breeze  and  in  the  howl- 
ing storm;  in  the  deep-toned  thunder,  and  in  the  earth- 
quake's shock;  'tis  declared  to  us  when  the  tempest 
lowers;  when  the  hurricane  sweeps  over  the  land; 
when  the  winds  moan  around  our  dwellings,  and  die  in 
sullen  murmurs  on  the  plain,  when  the  heavens,  over- 
cast with  blackness,  ever  and  anon  are  illuminated  by 
the  lightning's  glare. 

Nor  is  the  truth  less  solemnly  impressed  on  our 
minds  in  the  universal  hush  and  calm  repose  of  nature, 
when  all  is  still  as  the  soft  breathings  of  an  infant's 
slumber.  The  vast  ocean,  when  its  broad  expanse  is 
whitened  with  foam,  and  when  its  heaving  waves  roll 
mountain  on  mountain  high,  or  when  the  dark  blue 
of  heaven's  vault  is  reflected  with  beauty  on  its  smooth 
and  tranquil  bosom,  confirms  the  declaration.  The 
twinkling  star,  shedding  its  flickering  rays  so  far  above 
the  reach  of  human  ken,  and  the  glorious  sun  in  the 
heavens — all — all  declare  there  is  a  universal  First 
Cause. 

And  man,  the  proud  lord  of  creation,  so  fearfully 
and  wonderfully  made — each  joint  in  its  corresponding 
socket  —  each  muscle,  tendon,  and  artery,  performing 
their  allotted  functions  with  all  the  precision  of  the 
most  perfect  mechanism — and,  surpassing  all,  possessed 
of  a  soul  capable  of  enjoying  the  most  exquisite  pleas- 
ure, or  of  enduring  the  most  excruciating  pain,  which 
is  endowed  with  immortal  capacities,  and  is  destined  to 


THE  BIBLE. 


555 


live  onward  through  the  endless  ages  of  eternity — 
these  all  unite  in  one  general  proclamation  of  the 
eternal  truth — there  is  a  Being,  infinite  in  wisdom, 
who  reigns  over  all,  undivided  and  supreme — the 
fountain  of  all  life,  source  of  all  light — from  whom  all 
blessings  flow,  and  in  whom  all  happiness  centers. 


The  Bible  is  not  only  the  revealer  of  the  unknown 
God  to  man,  but  His  grand  interpreter  as  the  God  of 
nature.  In  revealing  God,  it  has  given  us  the  key  that 
unlocks  the  profoundest  mysteries  of  creation,  the  clew 
by  which  to  thread  the  labyrinth  of  the  universe,  the 
glass  through  which  to  look  "from  nature  up  to 
nature's  God.71 

It  is  only  when  we  stand  and  gaze  upon  nature, 
with  the  Bible  in  our  hands,  and  its  idea  of  God  in 
our  understandings,  that  nature  is  capable  of  rising  to 
her  highest  majesty,  and  kindling  in  our  souls  the 
highest  emotions  of  moral  beauty  and  sublimity. 
Without  the  all-pervading  spiritual  God  of  the  Bible 
in  our  thoughts,  nature's  sweetest  music  would  lose 
its  charm,  the  universe  its  highest  significance  and 
glory. 

Go,  and  stand  with  your  open  Bible  upon  the  Areo- 
pagus of  Athens,  where  Paul  stood  so  long  ago!  In 
thoughtful  silence,  look  around  upon  the  site  of  all 


556 


THE  BIBLE. 


that  ancient  greatness;  look  upward  to  those  still 
glorious  skies  of  Greece,  and  what  conceptions  of 
wisdom  and  power  will  all  those  memorable  scenes 
of  nature  and  art  convey  to  your  mind,  now,  more 
than  they  did  to  an  ancient  worshiper  of  Jupiter  or 
Apollo?  They  will  tell  of  Him  who  made  the  worlds, 
"by  whom,  and  through  whom,  and  tor  whom,  are  all 
things. "  To  you,  that  landscape  of  exceeding  beauty, 
so  rich  in  the  monuments  of  departed  genius,  with  its 
distant  classic  mountains,  its  deep  blue  sea,  and  its 
bright  bending  skies,  will  be  telling  a  tale  of  glory  the 
Grecian  never  learned;  for  it  will  speak  to  you  no 
more  of  its  thirty  thousand  petty  contending  deities, 
but  of  the  one  living  and  everlasting  God. 

Go,  stand  with  David  and  Isaiah  under  the  star- 
spangled  canopy  of  the  night;  and,  as  you  look  away 
to  the  "range  of  planets,  suns,  and  adamantine  spheres 
wheeling  unshaken  through  the  void  immense,"  take 
up  the  mighty  questionings  of  inspiration! 

Go,  stand  upon  the  heights  at  Niagara,  and  listen 
in  awe-struck  silence  to  that  boldest,  most  earnest, 
and  most  eloquent  of  all  nature's  orators!  And  what 
is  Niagara,  with  its  plunging  waters  and  its  mighty 
roar,  but  the  oracle  of  God,  the  whisper  of  His  voice 
who  is  revealed  in  the  Bible  as  sitting  above  the 
water-floods  forever! 

Who  can  stand  amid  scenes  like  these,  with  the 
Bible  in  his  hand,  and  not  feel  that  if  there  is  a  moral 
sublimity  to  be  found  on  earth,  it  is  in  the  Book  of 
God,  it  is  in  the  thought  of  God  ?  For  what  are 
all  these  outward,  visible  forms  of  grandeur  but  the 


THE  BIBLE. 


557 


expression  and  the  utterance  of  that  conception  of 
Deity  which  the  Bible  has  created  in  our  minds,  and 
which  has  now  become  the  leading  and  largest  thought 
of  all  civilized  nations? 

The  oldest  reliable  history  is  that  given  by  Moses: 
"And  God  said,  Let  there  be  light,  and  there  was 
light."  And  on  and  down,  for  four  thousand  years, 
the  sacred  volume  follows  the  fortunes  of  God's  chosen 
people.  And,  incidentally,  it  gives  us,  at  the  same 
time,  light  on  the  contemporary  nations  of  heathen- 
dom. See  what  it  has  done  for  science.  True,  it 
does  not  unfold  to  us  the  mysteries  of  geology,  astron- 
omy, or  chemistry.  And  yet  it  does  train  the  mind 
for  its  loftiest  flights  and  its  broadest  explorations. 
"I  have  always  found,"  said  a  patron  of  the  National 
Institute  at  Washington,  "in  my  scientific  studies,  that, 
when  I  could  get  the  Bible  to  say  anything  on  the 
subject,  it  afforded  me  a  firm  platform  to  stand  upon, 
and  another  round  in  the  ladder,  by  which  I  could 
safely  ascend."  It  throws  its  beams  into  the  temples 
of  science  and  literature,  no  less  than  those  of  religion; 
and  so  prepares  the  way  for  man's  advancement  in 
philosophy,  metaphysics,  and  the  natural  sciences,  no 
less  than  in  the  realm  of  ethics;  and,  as  it  saves  the 
soul,  it  exalts  the  intellect. 

The  BiHe  is  adapted  to  every  possible  variety  of 
taste,  temperament,  culture,  and  condition.  It  has 
strong  reasoning  for  the  intellectual ;  it  takes  the  calm 
and  contemplative  to  the  well-balanced  James,  and  the 
affectionate  to  the  loving  and  beloved  John.  The 
pensive  may  read  the  tender  lamentations  and  the 


558 


THE  BIBLE. 


funeral  strains  of  Jeremiah.  Let  the  sanguine  com- 
mune with  the  graphic  and  creative  Joel ;  and  the  plain 
and  practical  ma}'  go  to  the  wise  Ecclesiastes  or  the 
outspoken  Peter.  They  who  like  brilliant  apothegms, 
should  study  the  book  of  Proverbs ;  and  the  lover 
of  pastoral  and  quiet  delineations  may  dwell  with  the 
sweet  singer  of  Israel,  or  the  richly  endowed  Amos 
and  Hosea.  If  you  would  take  the  wings  of  imagina- 
tion, and  leap  from  earth  to  heaven,  or  wander  through 
eternity,  then  open  the  Revelation;  and  pour  over  and 
fill  yourself  with  the  glory  of  the  New  Jerusalem;  and 
listen  to  the  seven  thunders;  and  gaze  on  the  pearly 
gates  and  the  golden  streets  of  the  heavenly  city. 

Not  only  is  this  book  precious  to  the  poor  and 
unlearned;  not  only  is  it  the  counselor  and  confidence 
of  the  great  middle  class  of  society,  both  spiritually 
and  mentally  speaking;  but  the  scholar  and  the  sage, 
the  intellectual  monarchs  of  the  race,  bow  to  its  author- 
ity. It  has  encountered  the  scorn  of  a  Lucian,  the 
mystic  philosophy  of  a  Porphyry,  the  heartless  skepti- 
cism of  a  Hume,  the  lore  of  a  Gibbon,  the  sneers  of  a 
Voltaire,  the  rude  weapons  of  a  Paine,  and  the  subtle, 
many-sided  neology  of  modern  Germany.  But  none 
of  these  things  have  moved  it.  Nay,  parallel  with 
these  attempts  at  its  subjugation,  and  triumphant  over 
them  all,  have  advanced  the  noble  works  of  such  com- 
manding intellects  as  Newton,  Chalmers,  Robert  Hall, 
Bowditch,  Channing,  testifying  that,  to  them,  the  Bible 
bore  the  stamp  of  a  special  revelation  and  the  seal  of 
the  Eternal  God. 

To  multitudes  of  our  race  this  book  is  not  only  the 


THE  BIBLE.  553 

foundation  of  their  religious  faith,  but  their  daily  prac- 
tical guide.  It  has  taken  hold  of  the  world  as  no  other 
book  ever  did.  Not  only  is  it  read  in  all  Christian 
pulpits,  but  it  enters  every  habitation  from  the  palace 
to  the  cottage.  It  is  the  golden  chain  which  binds 
hearts  together  at  the  marriage  altar;  it  contains  the 
sacred  formula  for  the  baptismal  rite.  It  blends  itself 
with  our  daily  conversation,  and  is  the  silver  thread  of 
all  our  best  reading,  giving  its  hue,  more  or  less  dis- 
tinctly, to  book,  periodical,  and  daily  paper.  When 
the  good  mother  parts  with  her  dear  boy,  other  vol- 
umes may  be  placed  in  his  hands,  but  we  are  sure  that, 
with  tearful  prayers,  she  will  fold  among  his  apparel  a 
Bible.  On  the  seas  it  goes  with  the  mariner,  as  his 
spiritual  chart  and  compass;  and  on  the  land  it  is  to 
untold  millions  their  pillar-cloud  by  day,  their  fire- 
column  by  night.  In  the  closet  and  in  the  street,  amid 
temptations  and  trials,  this  is  man's  most  faithful 
attendant,  and  his  strongest  shield.  It  is  our  lamp 
through  the  dark  valley;  and  the  radiator  of  our  best 
light  from  the  solemn  and  unseen  future.  Stand  before 
it  as  a  mirror,  and  you  will  see  there  not  only  your 
good  traits,  but  errors,  follies,  and  sins,  which  you  did 
not  imagine  were  there  until  now.  You  desire  to 
make  constant  improvement.  Go  then  to  the  Bible. 
It  not  only  shows  the  way  of  all  progress,  but  it 
incites  you  to  go  forward.  It  opens  before  you  a  path 
leading  up  and  still  upward,  along  which  good  angels 
will  cheer  you,  and  God  himself  will  lend  you  a  help- 
ing hand. 

You  may  go  to  the  statesman,  who  has  filled  the 


560 


THE  BIBLE. 


highest  office  in  his  country,  and  ask  him  whether  his 
cup  of  jo}^  has  been  full?  As  he  stands  by  at  the 
inauguration  of  his  successor,  his  shaded  brow  will 
tell  you  nay.  Ask  the  warrior,  coming  from  the  bat- 
tle-field, his  garments  rolled  in  blood,  Did  the  shouts 
of  victory  satiate  his  thirst  for  applause?  Bid  any 
of  the  godless  sons  of  literary  fame,  Frederic  of  Prus- 
sia, Ifyron,  or  Volney,  give  in  their  testimony;  and 
they  affirm,  in  one  gloomy  voice: 

"We've  drank  every  cup  of  joy,  heard  every  trump 
Of  fame;  drank  early,  deeply  drank,  drank  draughts 
That  common  millions  might  have  quenched ; — then  died 
Of  thirst,  because  there  was  no  more  to  drink." 

But  never  a  human  being  went  to  the  Bible,  who 
did  not  find  His  words  true:  "But  whosoever  drink- 
eth  of  the  water  I  will  give  him,  shall  never  thirst; 
for  it  shall  be  in  him  a  well  of  water  springing  up 
into  everlasting  life."  Like  an  ethereal  principle  of 
light  and  life,  its  blessed  truths  extend  with  electric 
force  through  all  the  avenues  and  elements  of  the 
home-existence,  "giving  music  to  language,  elevation 
to  thought,  vitality  to  feeling,  intensity  to  power,, 
beauty  and  happiness." 

It  is  a  book  for  the  mind,  the  heart,  the  conscience,, 
the  will  and  the  life.  It  suits  the  palace  and  the  cot- 
tage, the  afflicted  and  the  prosperous,  the  living  and 
the  dying.  It  is  a  comfort  to  "the  house  of  mourn- 
ing," and  a  check  to  "the  house  of  feasting."  It 
"giveth  seed  to  the  sower,  and  bread  to  the  eater." 
It  is  simple,  yet  grand;  mysterious,  vet  plain;  and 


THE  BIBLE. 


561 


though  from  God7  it  is,  nevertheless,  within  the  eom 
prehension  of  a  little  child.     You  may  send  your 
children  to  school  to  study  other  books,  from  which 
they  may  be  educated  for  this  world;  but  in  this  divine 
book  they  study  the  science  of  the  eternal  world. 

The  family  Bible  has  given  to  the  Christian  home 
that  unmeasured  superiority  in  all  the  dignities  and 
decencies  and  enjoyments  of  life,  over  the  home  of 
the  heathen.  It  has  elevated  woman,  revealed  her 
true  mission,  developed  the  true  idea  and  sacredness 
of  marriage  and  of  the  home-relationship;  it  has 
unfolded  the  holy  mission  of  the  mother,  the  respon- 
sibilities of  the  parent,  and  the  blessings  of  the  child. 
Take  this  book  from  the  family,  and  it  will  degen- 
erate into  a  mere  conventionalism,  marriage  into  a 
"social  contract;"  the  spirit  of  mother  will  depart; 
natural  affection  will  sink  to  mere  brute  fondness,  and 
what  we  now  call  home  would  become  a  den  of  sullen 
selfishness  and  barbaric  lust! 

And  in  our  own  day,  a  throng  of  good  and  great 
men  have  venerated  this  book,  and  imbibed  its  spirit. 
John  Quincy  Adams,  through  a  long  life,  made  it  his 
daily  study;  a  neigbor  of  his  once  told  me  that,  amid 
the  most  active  portions  of  life,  he  always  translated  a 
few  verses  in  his  Hebrew  Bible,  the  first  thing  in  the 
morning.  He  read  it  when  a  boy;  he  clung  to  it 
through  his  manhood;  and  to  his  last  day,  he  owed  to 
it,  not  only  his  rare  veneration  for  the  Deity,  but  his 
love  for  freedom  and  humanity,  and  all  his  adamantine 
virtues.  Jackson,  Harrison  and  Clay  were  each  stu- 
dents of  the  Bible.  They  lived  gratefully  by  its  light; 
36 


502 


RELIGION. 


and  they  died  in  the  hope  of  its  glory.  "Though  I 
walk  through  the  dark  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death, 
I  will  fear  no  evil;"  these  were  among  the  last  words 
that  fell  on  the  ear  of  the  dying  Webster.  Sir  Walter 
Scott,  a  few  days  before  his  death,  asked  his  son-in-law 
to  read  to  him.  "What  book,"  inquired  Mr.  Lock- 
hart,  "would  you  like?"  "Can  you  ask?"  said  Sir 
Walter,  "there  is  but  one."  Verily,  there  is  but  one 
book  to  be  read  in  our  last  hours. 


Religion  is  the  daughter  of  heaven,  parent  of  our 
virtues,  and  source  of  all  true  felicity;  she  alone  gives 
peace  and  contentment,  divests  the  heart  of  anxious 
cares,  bursts  on  the  mind  a  flood  of  joy,  and  sheds 
unmingled  and  perpetual  sunshine  in  the  pious  breast. 
By  her  the  spirits  of  darkness  are  banished  from  the 
earth,  and  angelic  ministers  of  grace  thicken  unseen 
the  regions  of  mortality. 

She  promotes  love  and  good  will  among  men,  lifts 
up  the  head  that  hangs  down,  heals  the  wounded  spirit, 
dissipates  the  gloom  of  sorrow,  sweetens  the  cup  of 
affliction,  blunts  the  sting  of  death,  and  wherever  seen, 
felt,  and  enjoyed,  breathes  around  her  an  everlasting 
spring.  The  external  life  of  man  is  the  creature  of 
time  and  circumstance,  and  passes  away,  but  the 
internal  abides,  and  continues  to  exist.    One  is  the 


RELIGION. 


563 


painted  glory  of  the  flower;  the  other  is  the  delicious 
attar  of  the  rose.  The  city  and  the  temple  may  be 
destroyed,  and  the  tribes  exiled  and  dispersed,  yet  the 
altars  and  the  faith  of  Israel  are  still  preserved.  Spirit 
triumphs  over  form.  External  life  prevails  amidst 
sounds  and  shows,  and  visible  things ;  the  internal 
dwells  in  silence,  sighs  and  tears,  and  secret  sympathies 
with  the  invisible  world.  Power,  and  wealth,  and  lux- 
ury, are  relative  terms;  and  if  address,  and  prudence, 
and  policy,  can  only  acquire  us  our  share,  we  shall  not 
account  ourselves  more  powerful,  more  rich,  or  more 
luxurious,  than  when  in  the  little  we  possessed  we  were 
still  equal  to  those  around  us.  But  if  we  have  narrowed 
the  sources  of  internal  comfort,  and  internal  enjoyment 
if  we  have  debased  the  powers  or  corrupted  the  purity 
of  the  mind,  if  we  have  blunted  the  sympathy  or  con- 
tracted the  affections  of  the  heart,  we  have  lost  some  of 
that  treasure  which  was  absolutely  our  own,  and  derived 
not  its  value  from  comparative  estimation.*  Above  all, 
if  we  have  allowed  the  prudence  or  the  interests  of  this 
world,  to  shut  out  from  our  souls  the  view  or  the  hopes 
of  a  better,  we  have  quenched  that  light  which  would 
have  cheered  the  darkness  of  affliction.  But  if  we  let 
God  care  for  our  inward  and  eternal  life,  if  by  all  the 
experiences  of  this  life  he  is  reducing  it  and  preparing 
for  its  disclosure,  nothing  can  befall  us  but  prosperity. 
Every  sorrow  shall  be  but  the  setting  of  some  lumin- 
ous jewel  of  joy.  Our  very  mourning  shall  be  but  the 
enamel  around  the  diamond ;  our  very  hardships  but 
the  metallic  rim  that  holds  the  opal  glancing  with 
strange  interior  fires. 


564 


RELIGION. 


If  you  stand  upon  the  mountain,  you  may  see  the 
sun  shining  long  after  it  is  dark  in  the  valley.  Try  to 
live  up  high!  Escape,  if  you  can,  the  malarious  damps 
of  the  lowlands.  Make  an  upward  path  for  your  feet. 
Though  your  spirit  may  be  destined  to  live  isolated, 
you  cannot  be  alone,  for  God  is  there.  Your  best 
/strivings  of  soul  are  there  !  Your  standard  ground 
should  be  there  !  Live  upward  !  The  cedar  is  always 
developing  its  branches  toward  the  top  while  the  lower 
ones  are  dropping  away.  Let  your  soul-life  be  so ! 
Upward !    Upward  ! 

" Drink  deep,  or  taste  not,"  is  a  direction  fully  as 
applicable  to  religion,  if  we  would  find  it  a  source  of 
pleasure,  as  it  is  to  knowledge.  A  little  religion  is,  it 
must  be  confessed,  apt  to  make  men  gloomy,  as  a  little 
knowledge  is  to  render  them  vain;  hence  the  unjust 
imputation  brought  upon  religion  by  those  whose 
degree  of  religion  is  just  sufficient,  by  condemning 
their  course  of  conduct,  to  render  them  uneasy;  enough 
merely  to  impair  the  sweetness  of  the  pleasures  of  sin, 
and  not  enough  to  compensate  for  the  relinquishment 
of  them  by  its  own  peculiar  comforts.  Thus,  then, 
men  bring  up,  as  it  were,  an  ill  report  of  that  land  of 
promise,  which,  in  truth,  abounds  with  whatever,  in 
our  journey  through  life,  can  best  refresh  and  strengthen 
us.  Would  you  wish,  amidst  the  great  variety  of  reli- 
gious systems  in  vogue,  to  make  a  right  distinction, 
and  prefer  the  best?  Recollect  the  character  of  Christ; 
keep  a  steady  eye  on  that  universal  and  permanent 
good  will  to  men,  in  which  he  lived,  by  which  he 
suffered,  and  for  which  he  died.    Not  in  those  wild  and 


IMMOMTA  LIT  Y. 


565 


romantic  notions,  which,  to  make  us  Christians,  would 
make  us  fools;  but  in  those  inspired  writings,  and  in 
those  alone,  which  contain  his  genuine  history  and  his 
blessed  gospel ;  and  which,  in  the  most  peculiar  and 
extensive  sense,  and  the  words  of  eternal  life. 


If  we  wholly  perish  with  the  body,  what  an  impos- 
ture is  this  whole  system  of  laws,  manners,  and  usages, 
on  which  human  society  is  founded!  If  we  wholly 
perish  with  the  body,  these  maxims  of  charity,  patience, 
justice,  honor,  gratitude,  and  friendship,  which  sages 
have  taught  and  good  men  have  practised,  what  are 
they  but  empty  words,  possessing  no  real  and  binding 
efficacy?  Why  should  we  heed  them,  if  in  this  life 
only  we  have  hope?  Speak  not  of  duty.  What  can 
we  owe  to  the  dead,  to  the  living,  to  ourselves,  if  all 
are,  or  will  be,  nothing?  Who  shall  dictate  our  duty, 
if  not  our  own  pleasures — if  not  our  own  passions? 
Speak  not  of  mortality.  It  is  a  mere  chimera,  a  bug- 
bear of  human  invention,  if  retribution  terminate  with 
the  grave. 

If  we  must  wholly  perish,  what  to  us  are  the  sweet 
*ties  of  kindred?    What  the  tender  names  of  parent, 
child,  sister,  brother,  husband,  wife,  or  friend?  The 
characters  of  a  drama  are  not  more  illusive.    We  have 
no  ancestors,  no  descendants;  since  succession  cannot 


566 


IMMORTALITY. 


be  predicated  of  nothingness.  Would  we  honor  the 
illustrious  dead?  How  absurd  to  honor  that  which 
has  no  existence!  Would  we  take  thought  for  pos- 
terity? How  frivolous  to  concern  ourselves  for  those 
whose  end,  like  our  own,  must  soon  be  annihilation! 
Have  we  made  a  promise?  How  can  it  bind  nothing 
to  nothing?  Perjury  is  but  a  jest.  The  last  injunc- 
tions of  the  dying — what  sanctity  have  they,  more 
than  the  last  sound  of  a  chord  that  is  snapped,  of  an 
instrument  that  is  broken? 

To  sum  up  all:  If  we  must  wholly  perish,  then  is 
obedience  to  the  laws  but  an  insensate  servitude ;  rulers 
and  magistrates  are  but  the  phantoms  which  popular 
imbecility  has  raised  up;  justice  is  an  unwarrantable 
infringement  upon  the  liberty  of  men — an  imposition, 
a  usurpation;  the  law  of  marriage  is  a  vain  scruple; 
modesty,  a  prejudice;  honor  and  probity,  such  stuff  as 
dreams  are  made  of;  and  incests,  murders,  parricides^ 
the  most  heartless  cruelties  and  the  blackest  crimes, 
are  but  the  legitimate  sports  of  man's  irresponsible 
nature;  while  the  harsh  epithets  attached  to  them  are 
merely  such  as  the  policy  of  legislators  has  invented 
and  imposed  on  the  credulity  of  the  people. 

Here  is  the  issue  to  which  the  vaunted  philosophy 
of  unbelievers  must  inevitably  lead.  Here  is  that 
social  felicity,  that  sway  of  reason,  that  emancipation 
from  error,  of  which  they  eternally  prate,  as  the  fruit 
of  their  doctrines.  Accept  their  maxims,  and  the 
whole  world  falls  back  into  a  frightful  chaos;  and  all 
the  relations  of  life  are  confounded;  and  all  ideas  of 
vice  and  virtue  are  reversed;  and  the  most  inviolable 


DOING  GOOD. 


567 


laws  of  society  vanish;  and  all  moral  discipline  per- 
ishes; and  the  government  of  states  and  nations  has  no 
longer  any  cement  to  uphold  it;  and  all  the  harmony 
of  the  body  politic  becomes  discord;  and  the  human 
race  is  no  more  than  an  assemblage  of  reckless  bar- 
barians, shameless,  remorseless,  brutal,  denaturalized, 
with  no  other  law  than  force,  no  other  check  than 
passion,  no  other  bond  than  irreligion,  no  other  God 
than  self!  Such  would  be  the  world  which  impiety 
would  make.  Such  would  be  this  world,  were  a 
belief  in  God  and  immortality  to  die  out  of  the 
human  heart. 


There  are  trees,  like  the  butternut,  that  impoverish 
the  ground  upon  which  they  grow,  but  the  olive  tree 
enriches  the  very  soil  upon  which  it  feeds.  So  there 
are  natures  as  unlike  in  effect  as  these.  Some  cold, 
selfish,  absorbing,  which  chill  and  impoverish  every  one 
with  whom  they  come  in  contact.  Others  radiate 
affluent  souls,  who  enrich  by  their  very  presence, 
whose  smiles  are  full  of  blessing,  and  whose  touch 
has  a  balm  of  feeling  in  it  like  the  touch  of  Him  of 
Nazareth.  Squalid  poverty  is  not  so  pitiable  and  bar- 
ren as  the  selfish  heart,  while  wealth  has  no  largeness 
like  that  with  which  God  dowers  the  broad  and  sunny 


568 


DOING  GOOD. 


soul.  Be  like  the  olive,  from  whose  kindly  boughs 
blessing  and  benison  descends. 

One  of  the  old  philosophers  bid  his  scholars  to  con- 
sider what  was  the  best  thing  to  possess.  One  came 
and  said  that  there  was  nothing  better  than  a  good 
eye,  which  is,  in  their  language,  a  liberal  and  con- 
tented disposition.  Another  said  a  good  companion 
is  the  best  thing  in  the  world.  A  third  said  a  good 
neighbor  was  the  best  thing  he  could  desire;  and  the 
fourth  preferred  a  man  that  could  foresee  things  to 
come — that  is,  a  wise  person.  But  at  last  came  in 
one  Eleazer,  and  he  said  a  good  heart  was  better  than 
them  all.  "True,"  said  the  master,  "thou  hast  com- 
prehended in  two  words  all  that  the  rest  have  said;  for 
he  that  hath  a  good  heart  will  be  both  contented,  and 
a  good  companion,  and  a  good  neighbor,  and  easily 
see  what  is  fit  to  be  done  by  him." 

Every  man  should  ever  consider  that  it  is  best  for 
him  to  have  a  good  heart;  having  this  it  will  prompt 
him  to  not  only  do  good,  but  it  will  encompass  many 
virtues.  We  counsel  our  friends,  then,  to  seize  every 
opportunity  of  contributing  to  the  good  of  others. 
Sometimes  a  smile  will  do  it.  Oftener  a  kind  word, 
a  look  of  sympathy,  or  an  acknowledgment  of  obli- 
gation. Sometimes  a  little  help  to  a  burdened  shoulder, 
or  a  heavy  wheel,  will  be  in  place.  Sometimes  a  word 
or  two  of  good  counsel,  a  seasonable  and  gentle  admo- 
nition, and  at  others,  a  suggestion  of  advantage  to  be 
gained  and  a  little  interest  to  secure  it,  will  be  received 
with  lasting  gratitude.  And  thus  every  instance  of 
kindness  done,  whether  acknowledged  or  not,  opens 


DOING  GOOIs. 


569 


up  a  little  wellspring  of  happiness  in  the  doer's  own 
breast,  the  flow  of  which  may  be  made  permanent  by 
habit. 

Influence  is  to  a  man  what  flavor  is  to  fruit,  or  fra- 
grance to  the  flower.  It  does  not  develop  strength, 
or  determine  character,  but  it  is  the  measure  of  his 
interior  richness  and  worth,  and  as  the  blossom  cannot 
tell  what  becomes  of  the  odor  which  is  wafted  away 
from  it  by  every  wind,  so  no  man  knows  the  limit  of 
that  influence  which  constantly  and  imperceptibly 
escapes  from  his  daily  life,  and  goes  out  far  beyond  his 
conscious  knowledge  or  remotest  thought.  There  are 
aoxious  weeds  and  fragrance-laden  flowers  in  the  world 
of  mind  as  in  the  world  of  matter.  Truly  blessed  are 
they  who  walk  the  way  of  life  as  the  Savior  of  man- 
kind once  walked  on  our  earth,  filling  all  the  air  about 
them  with  the  aroma  which  is  so  subtilly  distilled  from 
kindly  deeds,  helpful  words  and  unselfish  lives. 

One  kernel  is  felt  in  a  hogshead — one  drop  of  water 
helps  to  swell  the  ocean — a  spark  of  fire  helps  to  give 
light  to  the  world.  You  are  a  small  man,  passing  amid 
the  crowd,  you  are  hardly  noticed;  but  you  have  a 
drop,  a  spark  within  you  that  may  be  felt  through 
eternity.  Do  you  believe  it?  Set  that  drop  in  motion, 
give  wings  to  that  spark,  and  behold  the  results !  It 
may  renovate  the  world. 

None  are  too  small — too  feeble — too  poor  to  be  of 
service.  Think  of  this,  and  act.  Life  is  no  trifle.  If 
we  work  upon  marble,  it  will  perish ;  if  we  work  upon 
brass,  time  will  efface  it;  if  we  rear  temples,  they  will 
crumble  into  dust.    But  if  we  work  upon  immortal 


570 


DOING  GOOD. 


minds — if  we  imbue  them  with  high  principles,  with 
the  just  fear  of  God,  and  of  their  fellow-men — we 
engrave  on  these  tables  something  which  no  time  can 
efface,  but  which  will  brighten  to  all  eternity.  It  is  a 
great  thing  to  stand  in  a  place  of  God,  and  proclaim 
His  word  in  the  presence  of  angels  and  men. 

If  you  would  show  yourself  a  man  in  the  truest  and 
noblest  sense,  go  not  to  yonder  tented  field,  where 
death  hovers,  and  the  vulture  feasts  himself  upon 
human  victims  !  Go  not  where  men  are  carving  monu- 
ments of  marble  to  perpetuate  names  which  will  not 
live  in  our  own  grateful  memory !  Go  not  to  the 
dwellings  of  the  rich !  Go  not  to  the  palaces  of  the 
kings  !  Go  not  to  the  hails  of  merriment  and  pleasure  t 
Go  rather  to  the  poor  and  helpless.  Go  to  the  widow 
and  relieve  her  woe.  Go  to  the  orphan,  and  speak 
words  of  comfort.  Go  to  the  lost,  and  save  him.  Go 
to  the  fallen,  and  raise  him  up.  Go  to  the  sinner,  and 
whisper  in  his  ear  words  of  eternal  life.  A  man's  true 
wealth  hereafter,  is  the  good  he  does  in  this  world  to 
his  fellow  men.  When  he  dies,  people  will  say,  what 
property  has  he  left  behind  him.  But  the  angels  who 
examine  will  ask,  "What  are  the  good  deeds  thou  hast 
sent  before  thee." 

Every  one  of  us  may  in  some  way  or  other  assist  or 
instruct  some  of  his  fellow  creatures,  for  the  best  of  the 
human  race  is  poor  and  needy,  and  all  have  a  mutual 
dependence  on  one  another.  There  is  nobody  that 
cannot  do  some  good;  and  everybody  is  bound  to  do 
diligently  all  the  good  they  can.  it  is  by  no  means 
enough  to  be  rightly  disposed,  to  be  serious,  and  relig- 


DOING  GOOD. 


571 


ious  in  our  closets ;  we  must  be  useful  too,  and  take 
care  that  as  we  all  reap  numberless  benefits  from 
society,  society  may  be  the  better  for  every  one  of  us. 
It  is  a  false,  a  faulty,  and  an  indolent  humility,  that 
makes  people  sit  still  and  do  nothing,  because  they  will 
not  believe  that  they  are  capable  of  doing  much,  for 
everybody  can  do  something.  Everybody  can  set  a 
good  example,  be  it  to  many  or  to  few.  Everybody 
can  in  some  degree  encourage  virtue  and  religion,  and 
discountenance  vice  and  folly.  Everybody  has  some- 
one or  other  whom  they  can  advise,  or  instruct,  or  in 
some  way  help  to  guide  through  life.  Those  who  are 
too  poor  to  give  alms  can  yet  give  their  time,  their 
trouble,  their  assistance  in  preparing  or  forwarding  the- 
gifts  of  others ;  in  considering  and  representing  dis- 
tressed cases  to  those  who  can  relieve  them;  in  visiting 
and  comforting  the  sick  and  afflicted.  Everybody  can 
offer  up  their  prayers  for  those  who  need  them;  which, 
if  they  do  reverently  and  sincerely,  they  will  never  be 
wanting  in  giving  them  every  other  assistance  that  it 
should  please  God  to  put  in  their  power. 

Dr.  Johnson  used  to  say,  uHe  who  waits  to  do  a 
great  deal  of  good  at  once,  will  never  do  any."  Good 
is  done  by  degrees.  However  small  in  proportion  ta 
benefits  which  follow  individual  attempts  to  do  good,  a 
great  deal  may  be  accomplished  by  perseverance,  even 
in  the  midst  of  discouragements  and  disappointments. 
Life  is  made  up  of  little  things.  It  is  but  once  in  an 
age  that  occasion  is  offered  for  doing  a  great  deed. 
True  greatness  consists  in  being  great  in  little  things. 
How  are  railroads  built  ?    By  one  shovelful  of  dirt 


572 


DOING  GOOD. 


after  another ;  one  shovelful  at  a  time.  Thus  drops 
make  the  ocean.  Hence  we  should  be  willing  to  do  a 
little  good  at  a  time,  and  never  "wait  to  do  a  great 
deal  of  good  at  once."  If  we  would  do  much  good  in 
the  world,  we  must  be  willing  to  do  good  in  little 
things,  little  acts  one  after  another,  setting  a  good 
example  all  the  time;  we  must  do  the  first  good  thing 
we  can,  and  then  the  next,  and  the  next,  and  so  keep 
on  doing  good.  Oh !  it  is  great ;  there  is  no  other 
greatness :  to  make  some  nook  of  God's  creation  a 
little  more  fruitful,  better,  more  worthy  of  a  God  ;  to 
make  some  human  hearts  a  little  wiser,  more  manful, 
happier ;  more  blessed,  less  accursed  !  The  first  and 
paramount  aim  of  religion  is  not  to  prepare  for  another 
world,  but  to  make  the  best  of  this  world ;  or,  more 
correctly  stated,  to  make  this  world  better,  wiser,  and 
happier.  It  is  to  be  good,  and  do  the  most  good  we 
can  now  and  here,  and  to  help  others  to  be  and  do  the 
same.  It  is  to  seek  with  all  our  might  the  highest 
welfare  of  the  world  we  live  in,  and  the  realization  of 
its  ideal  greatness,  nobleness,  and  blessedness.  A  most 
•comforting  thought  is,  that  the  forever  will  not  be  a 
place  of  white  robes  and  golden  harps  and  praise  sing- 
ing only,  but  will  also  be  a  place  for  living,  loving  and 
doing.  There  is  pleasure  in  contemplating  good;  there 
is  a  greater  pleasure  in  receiving  good;  but  the  greatest 
pleasure  of  all  is  in  doing  good,  which  comprehends 
the  rest.  Do  good  with  what  thou  hast,  or  it  will  do 
thee  no  good.  The  power  of  doing  good  to  worthy 
•objects,  is  the  only  enviable  circumstance  in  the  lives 
of  people  of  fortune.    Napoleon  once  entered  a  cathe- 


WELL  DOING. 


57$ 


dral  and  saw  twelve  silver  statues.  "What  are  these," 
said  the  Emperor.  "The  twelve  Apostles,"  was  the 
reply.  "Well,"  said  he,  "take  them  down,  melt  them, 
and  coin  them  into  money,  and  let  them  go  about 
doing  good,  as  their  Master  did.'1  Be  always  sure  of 
doing  good.  This  will  make  your  life  comfortable, 
your  death  happy,  and  your  account  glorious.  Zeal- 
ously strive  to  do  good  for  the  sake  of  good.  Be  not 
simply  good  ;  be  good  for  something. 

'  How  sweet  t'  will  be  at  evening 

If  you  and  I  can  say 
"Good  Shepherd,  we've  been  seeking 

The  lambs  that  went  astray; 
Heart-sore,  and  faint  with  hunger, 

We  heard  them  making  moan, 
And  lo!  we  come  at  night-fall 

Bearing  them  safely  home ! " 


I  am  happy,  says  G.  S.  Weaver,  in  knowing  that 
although  men  differ  about  woman's  intellectual  capaci- 
ties, they  agree  in  ascribing  to  her  the  highest  order  of 
moral  and  social  qualities.  All  admit  that  woman  is 
the  morality  and  religion,  the  love  and  sociality,  of 
humanity.  In  these  developments  of  human  attain- 
ments, she  is  the  queen  without  a  peer.  These  are  at 
present  woman's  peculiar  fields  of  power.  Society  has 
measurably  shut  her  out  from  the  intellectual  arena  of 


574 


WELL  DOING. 


life.  But  if  it  has  cut  short  her  operations  in  this,  it 
has  extended  them  in  the  field  of  social  life.  Wide  and 
grand  are  her  opportunities  here.  Man  is  not  so  defi- 
cient in  gallantry  as  he  is  in  generosity  and  judgment. 
In  what  man  has  oppressed  woman  it  is  more  the  fault 
of  his  head  than  his  heart;  it  is  more  a  weakness  of 
conscience  than  of  affection.  He  is  prouder  of  his 
judgment  than  he  ought  to  be.  His  judgment  often 
fails  because  it  is  not  sanctified  by  conscience.  His 
intellect  is  often  deceived  because  its  vision  is  not 
extended  and  widened  by  a  deep  affection  and  a  broad 
benevolence.  In  this,  woman  has  the  advantage  of 
him  in  the  present  relations  of  the  sexes.  Her  moral 
sense  consecrates  her  intellect,  and  her  heart  quickens 
it,  thus  making  her  judgment  more  intuitive  and  ready, 
more  comprehensive  and  sure.  She  feels  that  a  thing 
is  so;  he  reasons  that  it  is  so.  She  judges  by  impres- 
sion when  facts  are  stated;  he  by  logic.  Her  impres- 
sions she  cannot  always  explain,  because  her  intellect 
has  not  been  sufficiently  cultivated;  his  logic  often  fails 
him,  because  it  is  not  sufficiently  imbued  with  the  moral 
element.  The  light  of  the  conscience  and  the  heart 
does  not  shine  upon  it  with  sufficient  strength.  This  - 
we  understand  to  be  the  present  difference  between  the 
male  and  female  mind.  It  is  more  than  a  difference  in 
growth  and  culture,  in  inherent  constitution.  We  do 
not  believe  that  the  relation  between  the  different 
departments  of  the  human  mind  naturally  differ  in 
men  and  women;  that  is,  we  do  not  believe  that  man  is 
more  intelligent  and  less  moral,  and  woman  more  moral 
and  less  intellectual.    A  perfect  male  mind  is  an  equal 


WELL  DOING. 


575 


strength  of  the  several  departments  of  mind;  that  is, 
an  equal  strength  of  the  intellectual,  moral,  social,  and 
energetic  portions  of  the  mind,  a  balance  among  its 
several  powers.    The  same  is  true  of  the  female  mind. 

So  far  as  this  relation  of  the  parts  is  concerned,  it  is 
the  same  in  the  perfect  male  and  female  mind.  In  just 
so  much  as  this  relation  is  changed,  is  the  judgment 
corrupted  and  the  mental  strength  impaired.  In  the 
present  male  mind  this  relation  is  changed  by  giving 
the  greater  cultivation  to  the  intellect,  and  less  to  the 
moral  sense  and  the  heart.  So  his  judgment  is  impaired 
and  the  moral  dignity  of  his  soul  debased.  He  is  a  less 
man  than  he  ought  to  be;  is  d  ^imed  in  his  mental 
growth  like  a  tree  grown  in  a  shady  place  where  the 
light  could  reach  it  from  only  one  quarter.  He  has 
less  power  of  mind  than  he  would  have  with  the  same 
amount  of  cultivation  properly  and  equally  distributed 
among  the  several  departments  of  his  mind.  Strength 
lies  in  balance  of  power.  Our  men  are  not  too  intel- 
lectual, but  too  intellectual  for  their  moral  and  affec- 
tionate strength.  They  are  like  an  apple  grown  all  on 
one  side,  or  a  horse  with  disproportioned  body,  or  any 
animal  with  some  of  its  limbs  too  short  for  the  rest. 
Mentally  they  are  deformed  and  lame  by  their  one- 
sided culture.  In  the  present  female  mind  there  is  a 
disproportion  in  another  direction.  In  this  the  intellect 
has  been  neglected,  while  the  moral  and  social  mind 
has  had  a  better  degree  of  cultivation.  Thus  our 
women  have  been  mentally  deformed  and  weakened. 
They  are  less  woman  than  they  ought  to  have  been. 
Their  characters  and  judgments  have  lacked  harmony, 


576 


WELL  DOING. 


and  their  lives  have  been  marked  by  the  same  deficien- 
cies. Their  minds  are  one-sided  and  marked  with  sad 
irregularities.  They  are  not  too  moral  and  affectionate,, 
but  are  not  sufficiently  intellectual.  The  same  amount 
of  culture  which  they  have  received  would  have  con- 
ferred more  beauty  and  dignity  to  the  character  and 
life  had  it  been  more  general,  or  equally  applied  to  the 
several  powers  of  mind.  Sound  judgment,  pure  life., 
dignity  of  character  are  the  resuks  of  a  balance  of 
power  and  culture  in  the  several  departments  of  mind* 
This  difference  in  the  culture  of  the  male  and  female 
mind  has  made  a  breach  between  the  sexes.  The 
present  male  mind  c::  "not  comprehend  the  female,  nor 
the  female  the  male.  Instead  of  growing  up  in 
similarity  and  harmony,  they  have  grown  up  into  wide 
differences. 

The  male  and  female  mind  are  not  alike  by  natuie,. 
by  any  means.  There  is  a  wide  difference  between 
them;  but  the  difference  is  in  the  nature,  texture,  and 
quality  of  the  mind,  and  not  in  the  relation  of  parts. 
The  female  mind  has  an  inherent  constitution  peculiar 
to  itself  that  makes  it  female;  so  with  the  male.  This 
difference  is  beyond  the  fathoming  line  of  human 
thought.  We  know  it  exists,  but  wherefore  and  how 
we  know  not.  It  is  the  secret  of  the  Divine  Construc- 
tor of  mentality.  In  our  mental  structure  we  are  to 
seek  for  harmony,  a  consistent  rhythmic  development 
of  parts.  The  opportunities  offered  to  woman  for  the 
cultivation  of  her  moral  and  religious  nature  are 
eminently  favorable.  If  her  intellectual  opportunities 
are  not  so  good,  her  moral  and  religious  are  better 


WELL  DOING.  577 

She  is  not  so  pressed  with  temptation.  The  world  does 
not  bear  with  such  an  Atlas  burden  on  her  conscience. 
The  almighty  dollar  does  not  eclipse  so  large  a  field  of 
her  mental  vision.  Material  pursuits  do  not  check  so 
much  her  spiritual  progress.  God  is  nearer  to  her 
heart,  more  in  her  thoughts,  sweeter  in  her  soul, 
brighter  in  her  visions,  because  she  is  less  compassed 
about  by  the  snares  of  vice  and  the  hostile  pursuits  of 
the  false  and  flattering  world.  It  is  a  blessed  thing  for 
humanity  that  woman  is  more  religious  and  morally 
upright;  because  man  is  too  irreverent  and  base.  He 
lacks  the  sanctity  of  high  morality  and  the  consecra- 
tion of  religion.  I  speak  of  man  in  the  mass.  Woman 
is  the  conservation  of  morality  and  religion.  Her 
moral  worth  holds  man  in  some  restraint  and  preserves 
his  ways  from  becoming  inhumanly  corrupt.  Mighty 
is  the  power  of  woman  in  this  respect.  Every  virtue 
in  woman's  heart  has  its  influence  on  the  world.  Some 
men  feel  it.  A  brother,  husband,  friend,  or  son,  is. 
touched  by  its  sunshine.  Its  mild  beneficence  is  not 
lost.  A  virtuous  woman  in  the  seclusion  of  her  home,, 
breathing  the  sweet  influence  of  virtue  into  the  hearts 
and  lives  of  its  beloved  ones,  is  an  evangel  of  goodness 
to  the  world.  She  is  one  of  the  pillars  of  the  eternal 
kingdom  of  right.  She  is  a  star  shining  in  the  moral 
firmament.  She  is  a  princess  administering  at  the 
fountains  of  life.*  Every  prayer  she  breathes  is  an- 
swered to  a  greater  or  less  extent  in  the  hearts  and 
lives  of  those  she  loves.  Her  piety  is  an  altar-fire 
where  religion  acquires  strength  to  go  out  on  its  merci- 
ful mission.  We  cannot  overestimate  the  utility  and 
37 


578 


WELL  DOLNG. 


power  of  woman's  moral  and  religious  character.  The 
world  would  go  to  ruin  without  it.  With  all  our 
ministers  and  churches,  and  Bibles  and  sermons,  man 
would  be  a  prodigal  without  the  restraint  of  woman's 
virtue  and  the  consecration  of  her  religion.  Woman 
first  lays  her  hand  on  our  young  powers.  She  plants 
the  first  seeds.  She  makes  the  first  impressions;  and 
all  along  through  life  she  scatters  the  good  seed  of 'the 
kingdom  and  sprinkles  the  dews  of  her  piety.  But 
woman  does  not  do  enough.  Her  power  is  not  yet 
equal  to  its  need.  Her  virtue  is  not  mighty  enough. 
Her  religion  comes  short  in  its  work.  Look  out  and 
see  the  world — a  grand  Pandora's  box  of  wickedness — 
a  great  battle-field  of  clashing  passions  and  warring 
interests  —  a  far-spread  scene  of  sensualism  and  selfish- 
ness, in  which  woman  herself  acts  a  conspicuous  part. 
Look  at  society—  the  rich  eating  up  the  poor ;  the  poor 
stabbing  at  the  iich;  fashion  playing  in  the  halls  of 
gilded  sensualism ;  folly  dancing  to  the  tune  of  ignorant 
mirth;  intemperance  gloating  over  its  roast  beef,  or 
whisky  jug,  brandy  punch,  champagne  bottle,  bearing 
thousands  upon  thousands  down  to  the  grave  of  igno- 
miny, sensualism,  and  drunkenness.  Is  there  not  a  need 
of  more  vigorous  virtue  in  woman?  Is  there  not  a  call 
for  a  more  active  religion,  a  more  powerful  impulse  in 
behalf  of  morality?  Who  shall  heed  this  cry  of  wicked, 
wasting  humanity,  if  young  woman  does  not?  To 
youthful  woman  we  must  look  for  a  powerful  leader  in 
the  cause  of  morality  and  religion.  The  girls  of  to-day 
are  to  be  greatly  instrumental  in  giving  a  moral  com. 
plexion  to  the  society  of  to-morrow.    It  is  important 


WELL  DOING. 


579 


that  they  should  fix  high  this  standard  of  virtue.  They 
ought  to  lay  well  their  foundations  of  religion.  They 
ought  early  to  baptize  their  souls  in  the  consecrated 
waters  of  truth  and  right. 

The  first  element  in  their  moral  character  which 

i 

they  should  seek  to  establish  firmly  is  -purity.  A  pure 
heart  is  the  fountain  of  life.  "The  pure  in  heart  shall 
see  God."  Not  only  is  purity  of  life  needed  to  make 
a  young  woman  beautiful  and  useful,  but  purity  in 
thought,  feeling,  emotion,  and  motive.  All  within  us 
that  lies  open  to  the  gaze  of  God  should  be  pure.  A 
young  woman  should  be  in  heart  what  she  seems  to  be 
in  life.  Her  Words  should  correspond  with  her  thoughts. 
The  smile  of  her  face  should  be  the  smile  of  her  heart. 
The  light  of  her  eye  should  be  the  light  of  her  soul. 
She  should  abhor  deception;  she  should  loathe  intrigue; 
she  should  have  a  deep  disgust  of  duplicity.  Her  life 
should  be  the  outspoken  language  of  her  mind,  the 
eloquent  poem  of  her  soul  speaking  in  rhythmic  beau- 
ties the  intrinsic  merit  of  inward  purity.  Purity 
antecedes  all  spiritual  attainments  and  progress.  It  is 
the  first  and  fundamental  virtue  in  a  good  character;  it 
is  the  letter  A  in  the  moral  alphabet;  it  is  the  first  step 
in  the  spiritual  life;  it  is  the  Alpha  of  the  eternal  state 
of  soul  which  has  no  Omega.  Whatever  may  be  our 
mental  attainments  or  social  qualities,  we  are  nothing 
without  purity ;  only  "  tinkling  cymbals."  Our  love  is 
stained,  our  benevolence  corrupted,  our  piety  a  pretense 
which  God  will  not  accept.  An  impure  young  woman 
is  an  awful  sight.  She  outrages  all  just  ideas  of 
womanhood,  all  proper  conceptions  of  spiritual  beauty. 


580 


WELL  DOING. 


To  have  evil  imaginings,  corrupt  longings,  or  deceitful 
propensities  ought  to  startle  any  young  woman.  To 
feel  a  disposition  to  sensuality,  a  craving  for  the  glitter 
of  a  worldly  life,  or  a  selfish  ambition  for  unmerited 
distinction  is  dangerous  in  the  extreme.  It  is  the  exu- 
ding of  impure  waters  from  the  heart.  Who  feels  such 
utterings  within  should  beware.  They  are  the  whisper- 
ings of  an  evil  spirit,  the*  temptations  to  sin  and  crime. 
If  I  could  speak  to  all  the  young  women  in  the  world,  I 
would  strive  to  utter  the  intrinsic  beauties  and  essential 
qualities  of  purity;  I  would  seek  to  illustrate  it  as  the 
fountain  of  all  that  is  great  and  good,  all  that  is  spiritu- 
ally grand  and  redeeming.  There  is  no  virtue,  no 
spiritual  life,  no  moral  beauty,  no  glory  of  soul,  nor 
dignity  of  character  without  purity. 

The  second  virtue  she  should  cultivate  is  benevolence. 
Queen  of  virtues,  lovely  star  in  the  crown  of  life,  bright 
and  glorious  image  of  Him  who  is  love,  how  beautiful 
is  it  in  woman's  heart!  A  woman  without  benevolence 
is  not  a  woman;  she  is  only  a  deformed  personality  of 
womanhood.  In  every  heart  there  are  many  tendencies 
to  selfishness,  but  the  spirit  of  benevolence  counteracts 
them  all.  A  hollow,  cold,  graceless,  ungodly  thing  is  a 
heart  without  benevolence.  In  a  world  like  this,  where 
we  are  all  so  needy  and  dependent,  where  our  interests 
are  so  interlocked,  where  our  lives  and  hearts  overlap 
each  other,  and  often  grow  together,  we  cannot  live 
without  a  good  degree  of  benevolence.  Our  true  earth- 
life  is  a  benevolent  one.  Our  highest  interests  are  in 
the  path  of  benevolence.  We  do  most  for  ourselves 
when  we  do  most  for  others.    "It  is  more  blessed  to 


WELL  DOING. 


581 


give  than  to  receive."  Good  deeds  double  in  the  doing, 
and  the  larger  half  comes  back  to  the  door.  The  most 
benevolent  soul  lives  nearest  to  God.  A  large  heart  of 
charity  is  a  noble  thing.  Selfishness  is  the  root  of  evil; 
benevolence  is  its  cure.  In  no  heart  is  benevolence 
more  beautiful  than  in  youthful  woman's.  In  no  heart 
is  selfishness  more  ugly.  To  do  good  is  noble;  to  be 
good  is  nobler.  This  should  be  the  aim  of  all  young 
women.  The  poor  and  needy  should  occupy  a  large 
place  ,  in  their  hearts.  The  sick  and  suffering  should 
move  upon  their  sympathies.  The  sinful  and  criminal 
should  awaken  their  deepest  pity.  The  oppressed  and 
down-trodden  should  find  a  large  place  in  their  compas- 
sion. How  blessed  is  woman  on  errands  of  mercy! 
How  sweet  are  her  soothing  words  to  the  disconsolate! 
How  consoling  her  tears  of  sympathy  to  the  mourning! 
How  fresh  her  spirit  of  hope  to  the  discouraged!  How 
soft  her  hand  to  the  sick!  How  balmy  the  breath  of 
her  love  to  the  oppressed!  Woman  appears  in  one  of 
■her  loveliest  aspects  when  she  appears  as  the  practical 
follower  of  Him  who  "went  about  doing  good."  The 
young  woman  who  does  these  works  of  practical 
benevolence  is  educating  her  moral  powers  in  the 
school  of  earnest  and  glorious  life.  She  is  laying  the 
foundations  for  a  noble  and  useful  'womanhood.  She  is 
planting  the  seeds  of  a  charity  that  will  grow  to  bless 
and  save  the  suffering  of  our  fellow-men.  In  no  other 
way  can  she  so  successfully  cultivate  the  virtue  of 
benevolence.  It  is  not  enough  that  she  pity  the  sorrows 
of  the  poor  and  suffering.  Her  hand  must  be  taught 
to  heed  the  pleadings  of  her  pitying  heart.    What  she 


582 


WELL  DOING. 


feels,  she  must  do.  What  she  wishes,  she  must  make 
an  effort  to  accomplish.  What  she  prays  for,  she  must 
strive  to  attain.  Everybody  predicts  a  beautiful  life 
from  a  good-doing  young  woman. 

The  third  virtue  which  the  young  woman  should 
cultivate  is  integrity,  or  the  sentiment  of  duty.  A 
German  philosopher  has  poetically  and  truthfully  said,, 
"The  two  most  beautiful  things  in  the  universe  are  the 
starry  heavens  above  our  heads  and  the  sentiment  of 
duty  in  the  human  soul."  Few  objects  are  richer  for 
the  contemplation  of  a  truly  high-minded  man  than  a 
young  woman  who  lives,  acts,  speaks,  and  exerts  her 
powers  from  an  enlightened  conviction  of  duty ;  in 
whose  soul  the  voice  of  duty  is  the  voice  of  God.  In 
such  women  there  is  a  mighty  force  of  moral  power. 
Though  they  may  be  gentle  as  the  lamb,  or  retiring  and 
modest  in  their  demeanor,  there  is  in  them  what  com- 
mands respect,  what  enforces  esteem.  They  are  the 
strong  women.  The  sun  is  not  truer  to  his  course  than 
they  to  theirs.  They  are  reliable  as  the  everlasting 
rocks.  Every  day  finds  in  them  the  same  beautiful, 
steady,  moral  firmness.  Men  look  to  them  with  a  con- 
fidence that  knows  no  doubt.  They  are  fearless  and 
brave,  they  have  but  to  know  their  duty  to  be  ready  to 
engage  in  it.  Though  men  laugh  or  sneer,  though  the 
world  frown  or  threaten,  they  will  do  it.  There  is  no 
bravado  in  them;  it  is  the  simple  power  of  integrity. 
They  are  true  to  what  to  them  seems  right.  Such 
spirits  are  often  the  mildest  and  meekest  we  have. 
They  are  sweet  as  the  flower  while  they  are  firm  as 
the  rock.    We  know  them  by  their  lives.    They  are 


WELL  DOING. 


583 


consistent,  simple-hearted,  uniform,  and  truthful.  The 
word  on  the  tongue  is  the  exact  speech  of  the  heart. 
The  expression  they  wear  is  the  spirit  they  bear.  Their 
parlor  demeanor  is  their  kitchen  and  closet  manner. 
Their  courtesy  abroad  is  their  politeness  at  home. 
Their  confiding  converse  is  such  as  the  world  may 
hear  and  respect  them  the  more  for  it.  Such  are  the 
women  of  integrity.  Men  love  to  trust  their  fortunes 
in  their  hands.  The  good  love  to  gather  around  them 
for  the  blessing  of  their  smiles;  they  strew  their  path- 
way with  moral  light*  They  bless  without  effort;  they 
teach  sentiments  of  duty  and  honesty  in  every  act  of 
their  lives.  Such  is  the  rectitude  of  character  which 
every  young  woman  should  cultivate.  Nothing  will 
more  surely  secure  confidence  and  esteem.  There  is 
especial  need  of  such  cultivation,  for  young  women  are 
doubted  in  many  respects  more  generally  than  any 
other  class  of  people.  Most  people  seldom  think  of 
believing  many  things  they  hear  from  the  lips  of  young 
women,  so  little  is  genuine  integrity  cultivated  among 
them.  I  am  sorry  to  make  such  a  remark.  I  wish 
truth  did  not  compel  it. 

I  would  that  young  women  would  cultivate  the 
strictest  regard  for  truth  in  all  things;  in  small  as  well 
as  in  important  matters.  Exaggeration  or  false  color- 
ing is  as  much  a  violation  of  integrity  as  a  direct  false- 
hood. Equivocation  is  often  falsehood.  Deception  in 
all  forms  is  opposed  to  integrity.  Mock  manners,  pre- 
tended emotions,  affectation,  policy  plans  to  secure 
attention  and  respect  are  all  sheer  falsehoods,  and  in  the 
end  injure  her  who  is  guilty  of  them.    Respect  and 


£84 


WELL  DOING. 


affection  are  the  outgrowth  of  confidence.  She 
who  secures  the  firmest  confidence  will  secure  the 
most  respect  and  love.  No  love  is  lasting  but 
that  which  rests  in  confidence.  Confidence  can  only 
be  secured  by  integrity.  The  young,  woman  with  .« 
a  high  sense  of  duty  will  always  secure  confidence, 
and  having  this,  she  will  secure  respect,  affection,  and 
influence. 

The  fourth  virtue  of  inestimable  value  which  the 
young  woman  should  cultivate  is  piety.  This  may  be 
regarded  as  the  crown  of  all  moral  virtues.  It  is  that 
which  sanctifies  the  rest.  It  is  a  heavenly  sun  in  the 
moral  firmament,  shedding  a  divine  luster  through  the 
soul — a  balmy,  hallowing  light,  sweeter  than  earth  can 
give.  Piety  is  the  meek-eyed  maid  of  heaven,  that 
holds  her  sister  Faith  in  one  hand  and  Hope  in  the 
other,  and  looks  upward  with  a  confiding  smile,  saying, 
"My  treasure  is  above."  Of  all  the  influences  wrought 
in  the  human  soul,  the  work  of  piety  is  the  most  har- 
monizing and  divine.  It  subdues  the  flesh  and  the 
world,  and  calls  down  heaven  to  bless  the  happy  pietist. 
It  is  the  constant,  ever-speaking  voice  of  the  Father 
uttering  in  sublime  and  beautiful  impressions  the  holy 
eloquence  of  his  everlasting  love.  It  is  the  communing 
ground  of  the  mortal  child  with  the  immortal  Parent. 
In  the  mind  of  youthful  woman  it  is  as  beautiful  as  it 
can  be  anywhere.  And  when  she  consecrates  all  her 
powers  by  the  laying  on  of  its  heavenly  hands,  and 
sanctifies  all  her  feelings  by  its  hallowed  influences,  she 
exhibits  a  view  of  beauty — of  physical,  moral,  and 
spiritual  beaut}' — not  elsewhere  surpassed  on  earth. 


WELL  DOING, 


585  , 


A  deep,  pervading,  all-controlling  piety  is  the  highest 
attainment  of  man  on  earth.  It  is  that  reverent,  humble, 
grateful,  affectionate,  and  virtuous  purity  of  spirit  in 
which  the  human  and  divine  meet  and  embrace  each 
other.  It  is  the  spiritual  crown  which  men  put  on 
when  they  go  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  This  is 
what  we  urge  as  the  last  and  finishing  excellency 
of  the  youthful  female  character.  The  cultivation 
of  this  is  what  we  press  as  conferring  mortal  per- 
fection of  character,  or  as  great  perfection  as  frail, 
sinful  creatures  can  put  on' below  "the  mansions  of  the 
skies.1' 

We  urge  it  as  the  best  and  highest  duty  of  every 
young  woman — a  duty  she  owes  to  herself,  her  fellows, 
and  her  God  —  a  duty  as  full  of  joys  as  the  heavens  are 
of  stars,  and  when  performed,  reflecting  matchless 
grace  upon  her  soul.  We  do  not  urge  it  through  fear 
of  hell  or  hope  of  heaven;  we  do  not  urge  it  from 
motives  of  policy;  we  urge  it  for  its  own  intrinsic 
worth;  for  the  blessedness  of  being  pious;  for  the 
excellency  and  worth  of  character  and  life  it  confers. 
No  character  is  complete  till  it  is  swayed  and  elevated 
by  genuine  piety.  No  heart  is  fully  happy  till  it  is 
imbued  with  the  spirit  of  piety.  No  life  is  all  it  may 
and  should  be  till  its  motives  are  baptized  in  the  waters 
of  piety.  No  soul  is  saved  till  it  is  transformed  by  the 
gracious  spirit  of  this  daughter  of  the  skies.  This 
divine  grace  of  the  soul  should  be  sought  by  every 
young  woman,  and  cultivated  with  the  most  assiduous 
care,  for  withoutit  she  is  destitute  of  the  highest  beauty 
and  divinest  charm  and  power  of  womanhood. 


586 


OLD  AGE. 


"  No  snow  falls  lighter  than  the  snow  of  age ;  but  none  is  heavier, 
for -it  never  melts." 

The  rigure  is  by  no  means  novel,  but  the  closing 
part  of  the  sentence  is  new  as  well  as  emphatic.  The 
Scriptures  represent  age  by  the  almond-tree,  which 
bears  blossoms  of  the  purest  white.  "The  almond-tree 
shall  flourish,"  the  head  shall  be  hoary.  Dickens  says 
of  one  of  his  characters/ whose  hair  was  turning  gray, 
that  it  looked  as  if  Time  had  lightly  splashed  his  snows 
upon  it  in  passing. 

"It  never  melts" — no  never.  Age  is  inexorable. 
Its  wheels  must  move  onward;  they  know  no  retro- 
grade  movement.  The  old  man  may  sit  and  sing,  "I 
would  I  were  a  boy  again,"  but  he  grows  older  as  he 
sings.  He  may  read  of  the  elixir  of  youth,  but  he 
cannot  find  it;  he  may  sigh  for  the  secrets  of  that 
alchemy  which  is  able  to  make  him  young  again,  but 
sighing  brings  it  not.  Fie  may  gaze  backward  with  an 
eye  of  longing  upon  the  rosy  scenes  of  early  years,  as- 
one  who  gazes  on  his  home  from  the  deck  of  a  depart- 
ing ship,  which  every  moment  carries  him  farther  and 
farther  away.  Poor  old  man !  he  has  little  more  to  do 
than  die. 

"It  never  melts."  The  snow  of  winter  comes  and 
sheds  its  white  blessings  upon  the  valley  and  the  moun- 
tains, but  soon  the  sweet  spring  comes  and  smiles  it  all 
away.  Not  so  with  that  upon  the  brow  of  the  tottering 
veteran.    There  is  no  spring  whose  warmth  can  pene- 


FOR  THE  ROYAL  PATH   OF  LIFE 


OLD  AGE. 


587 


trate  its  eternal  frost.  It  came  to  stay.  Its  single  flakes 
fell  unnoticed — and  now  it  is  drilled  there.  We  shall 
see  it  increase  until  we  lay  the  old  man  in  his  grave. 
There  it  shall  be  absorbed  by  the  eternal  darkness  — 
for  there  is  no  age  in  heaven. 

The  young,  who  all  wish  to  live,  but  who  at  the 
same  time  have  a  dread  at  growing  old,  may  not  be 
disposed  to  allow  the  justice  of  the  representation  we 
are  now  to  make.  They  regard  old  age  as  a  dreary 
season,  that  admits  of  nothing  which  can  be  called 
pleasure,  and  very  little  which  deserves  the  name  even 
of  comfort.  They  look  forward  to  it,  as  in  autumn  we 
anticipate  the  approach  of  winter;  but  winter,  though 
it  terrifies  us  at  a  distance,  has  nothing  very  formidable 
when  it  arrives.  Its  enjoyments  are  of  a  different  kind, 
but  we  find  it  not  less  pleasant  than  any  other  season 
of  the  year. 

In  like  manner  old  age,  frightful  as  it  may  be  to  the 
young,  who  view  it  afar  off,  has  no  terror  to  them  who 
see  it  near;  but  experience  proves  that  it  abounds  with 
consolations,  and  even  with  delights.  We  should  look 
therefore  with  pleasure  on  many  old  men,  whose  illu- 
minated faces  and  hoary  heads  resemble  one  of  those 
pleasant  days  in  winter,  so  common  in  this  climate, 
when  a  bright  sun  darts  its  beams  on  a  pure  field  of 
snow.  The  beauty  of  spring,  the  splendor  of  summer, 
and  the  glory  of  autumn  are  gone;  but  the  prospect  is 
still  lively  and  cheerful. 

Among  other  circumstances  which  contribute  to  the 
satisfaction  of  this  period  of  life,  is  the  respect  with 
which  old  age  is  treated.     There  are,  it  must  be 


^588 


OLD  AGE. 


acknowledged  and  lamented,  some  foolish  and  ill-edu- 
cated young  persons  who  do  not  pay  that  veneration 
which  is  due  to  the  hoary  head;  but  these  examples 
are  not  numerous. 

The  world  in  general  bows  down  to  age,  gives  it 
precedence,  and  listens  with  deference  to  its  opinions. 
Old  age  wants  accommodations ;  and  it  must  in  justice 
to  man  be  allowed  that  they  are  afforded  with  cheer- 
fulness. Who  can  deny  that  such  reverence  is  soothing 
to  the  human  mind?  and  that  it  compensates  us  for  the 
loss  of  many  pleasures  which  are  peculiar  to  youth? 

The  respect  of  the  world  in  general  is  gratifying; 
but  the  respect  of  a  man's  own  offspring  must  yield 
heartfelt  delight.  Can  there  be  a  more  pleasing  sight, 
than  a  venerable  old  man  surrounded  by  his  children 
and  grandchildren,  all  of  whom  are  emulous  of  each 
other  in  testifying  their  homage  and  affection?  His 
children,  proud  of  their  honored  father,  strive  who 
shall  treat  him  with  the  most  attention,  while  his 
grandchildren  hang  on  his  neck,  entertain  him  with 
their  innocent  prattle,  and  convince  him  that  they 
love  their  grandfather  not  less  than  they  love  their 
father.  Whoever  takes  a  little  child  into  his  love, 
may  have  a  very  roomy  heart,  but  that  child  will  fill 
it  all.  The  children  that  are  in  the  world  keep  us 
from  growing  old  and  cold;  they  cling  to  our  garments 
with  their  little  hands,  and  impede  our  progress  to 
petrification;  they  win  us  back  with  their  pleading 
eyes  from  cruel  care;  they  never  encumber  us  at  all. 
A  poor  old  couple,  with  no  one  to  love  them,  is  a  most 
pitiful  picture;  but  a  hovel  with  a  small  face  to  fill  a 


OLD  AGE. 


58$- 


broken  pane,  here  and  there,  is  robbed  of  its  desolate- 
ness.  A  little  thoughtful  attention,  how  happy  it 
makes  the  old  !  They  have  outlived  most  of  the 
friends  of  their  early  youth.  How  lonely  their  hours! 
Often  their  partners  in  life  have  long  rilled  silent 
graves;  often  their  children  they  have  followed  to 
the  tomb.  They  stand  solitary,  bending  on  their  staff, 
waiting  till  the  same  call  shall  reach  them.  How 
often  they  must  think  of  absent,  lamented  faces,  of 
the  love  which  cherished  them,  and  the  tears  of  sym- 
pathy which  fell  with  theirs — now  all  gone.  Why 
should  not  the  young  cling  around  and  comfort  themv 
cheering  their  gloom  with  happy  smiles? 

That  old  man!  what  disappointments  he  has  encoun- 
tered in  his  long  journey,  what  bright  hopes  blasted, 
what  sorrows  felt,  what  agonies  endured,  how  many 
loved  ones  he  has  covered  up  in  the  grave.  And  that 
old  woman  too!  husband  dead,  children  all  buried  or 
far  away,  life's  flowers  faded,  the  friends  of  her  youth 
no  more,  and  she  waiting  to  go  soon.  Ought  we  ever 
to  miss  an  opportunity  of  showing  attention  to  the  aged, 
of  proffering  a  kindness,  or  lighting  up  a  smile,  by  a 
courteous  act  or  a  friendly  deed? 

Why  speak  of  age  in  a  mournful  strain?  It  is 
beautiful,  honorable,  eloquent.  Should  we  sigh  at 
the  proximity  of  death,  when  life  and  the  world  are 
so  full  of  emptiness?  Let  the  old  exult  because  they 
are  old.  If  any  must  weep,  let  it  be  the  young,  at  the 
long  succession  of  cares  that  are  before  them.  Wel- 
come the  snow,  for  it  is  the  emblem  of  peace  and  of 


9 


590  DEATH. 

rest.  It  is  but  a  temporal  crown  which  shall  fall  at  the 
gates  of  Paradise,  to  be  replaced  by  a  brighter  and  a 
better. 


No  sex  is  spared,  no  age  exempt.  The  majestic 
and  courtly  roads  which  monarchs  pass  over,  the  way 
that  the  men  of  letters  tread,  the  path  the  warrior 
traverses,  the  short  and  simple  annals  of  the  poor,  all 
lead  to  the  same  place,  all  terminate,  however  varied 
in  their  routes,  in  that  one  enormous  house  which  is 
appointed  for  all  living.  One  short  sentence  closes  the 
biography  of  every  man,  as  if  in  mockery  of  the 
unsubstantial  pretensions  of  human  pride,  "The  days 
of  the  years  of  Methuselah  were  nine  hundred  and 
sixty-nine  years,  and  he  died."  There  is  the  end  of  it 
"And  he  died."  Such  is  the  frailty  of  this  boasted 
man.  "It  is  appointed  unto  men" — unto  all  men — 
"once  to  die."  No  matter  what  station  of  honor  we 
hold,  we  are  all  subject  to  death. 

As  in  chess-play,  so  long  as  the  game  is  playing,  all 
the  men  stand  in  their  order  and  are  respected  accord- 
ing to  their  places — first  the  king,  then  the  queen, 
then  the  bishops,  after  them  the  knights,  and  last  of  all 
the  common  soldiers;  but  when  once  the  game  is  ended 
and  the  table  taken  away,  then  they  are  all  confusedly 


DEATH.  591 

tumbled  into  a  bag,  and  haply  the  king  is  lowest  and 
the  pawn  upmost.  Even  so  it  is  with  us  in  this  life; 
the  world'  is  a  huge  theater,  or  stage,  wherein  some 
play  the  parts  of  kings,  others  of  bishops,  some  lords, 
many  knights,  and  others  yeomen;  but  death  sends  all 
alike  to  the  grave  and  to  the  judgment.  ) 

Death  comes  equally  to  us  all  and  makes  us  all  equal 
when  it  comes.  The  ashes  of  an  oak  in  a  chimney  are 
no  epitaph  of  that,  to  tell  me  how  high  or  how  large 
that  was ;  it  tells  me  not  what  flocks  it  sheltered  when 
it  stood,  nor  what  men  it  hurt  when  it  fell.  The  dust 
of  great  men's  graves  is  speechless  too:  it  says  nothing; 
it  distinguishes  nothing.  "As  soon  the  dust  of  a  wretch 
whom  thou  wouldst  not,  as  of  a  prince  whom  thou 
couldst  not  look  upon,  will  trouble  thine  eyes  if  the 
wind  blow  it  thither ;  and  when  a  whirlwind  hath 
blown  the  dust  of  a  church-yard  into  a  church,  and  the 
man  sweeps  out  the  dust  of  the  church  into  the  church- 
yard, who  will  undertake  to  sift  those  dusts  again  and 
to  pronounce:  This  is  the  patrician,  this  is  the  noble 
flower,  and  this  is  the  yeoman,  this  is  plebeian  bran?" 

Look  at  that  hero,  as  he  stands  on  an  eminence  and 
covered  with  glory.  He  falls  suddenly,  forever  falls. 
His  intercourse  with  the  living  world  is  now  ended,  and 
those  who  would  hereafter  find  him  must  seek  him  in 
the  grave.  There,  cold  and  lifeless,  is  the  heart  which 
just  now  was  the  seat  of  friendship;  there,  dim  and 
sightless,  is  the  eye  whose  radiant  and  enlivening  orb 
beamed  with  intelligence ;  and  there,  closed  forever,  ard 
those  lips,  on  .  whose  persuasive  accents  we  have  so 
often  and  so  lately  hung  with  transport. 


592 


DEATH. 


From  the  darkness  which  rests  upon  his  tomb  there 
proceeds,  methinks,  a  light,  in  which  it  is  clearly  seen 
that  those  gaudy  objects  which  men  pursue  are  only 
phantoms.  In  this  light,  how  dimly  shines  the  splendor 
of  victor)' — how  humble  appears  the  majesty  of  grand- 
eur!  The  bubble,  which  seemed  to  have  so  much 
solidity,  has  burst,  and  we  again  see  that  all  below  the 
sun  is  vanity. 

^  True,  the  funeral  eulogy  has  been  pronounced,  the 
sad  and  solemn  procession  has  moved,  the  badge  of 
mourning  has  already  been  decreed,  and  presently  the 
sculptured  marble  will  lift  up  its  front,  proud  to  per- 
petuate the  name  of  the  hero  and  rehearse  to  the 
passing  traveler  his  virtues — just  tributes  of  respect- 
and  to  the  living  useful  —  but  to  him,  moldering  in  his 
narrow  and  humble  habitation,  what  are  they?  How 
vain!  how  unavailing! 

Approach,  and  behold,  while  I  lift  from  his  sepulchre 
its  covering!  Ye  admirers  of  his  greatness — ye  emu- 
lous of  his  talents  and  his  fame — approach  and  behold 
him  now.  How  pale!  how  silent!  No  martial  bands 
admire  the  adroitness  of  his  movements ;  no  fascinating 
throng  weep,  and  melt,  and  tremble  at  his  eloquence  I 
Amazing  change!  A  shroud,  a  coffin,  a  narrow,  sub- 
terraneous cabin! — this  is  all  that  now  remains  of  the 
hero !  And  is  this  all  that  remains  of  him  ?  During  a 
life  so  transitory,  what  lasting  monument,  then,  can  our 
fondest  hopes  erect!  s  • 

My  brethren,  we  stand  on  the  borders  of  an  awful 
gulf,  which  is  swallowing  up  all  things  human.  And  is 
there,  amidst  this   universal  wreck,  nothing  stable. 


DEATH.  593 

nothing  abiding,  nothing  immortal,  on  which  poor, 
frail,  dying  man  can  fasten?  Ask  the  hero,  ask  the 
statesman,  whose  wisdom  you  have  been  accustomed 
to  revere,  and  he  will  tell  you.  He  will  tell  you,  did  1 
say?  He  has  already  told  you,  from  his  death-bed,  and 
his  illumined  spirit  still  whispers  from  the  heavens, 
with  well-known  eloquence,  the  solemn  admonition: 
^Mortals  hastening  to  the  tomb,  and  once  the  com- 
panions of  my  pilgrimage,  take  warning  and  avoid  my 
errors ;  cultivate  the  virtues  I  have  recommended ; 
choose  the  Savior  I  have  chosen;  live  disinterestedly; 
live  for  immortality;  and  would  you  rescue  anything 
from  final  dissolution,  lay  it  up  in  God.'^ 
C  Ah,  it  is  true  that  a  few  friends  will  go  and  bury  us ; 
affection  will  rear  a  stone  and  plant  a  few  flowers  over 
our  grave;  in  a  brief  period  the  little  hillock  will  be 
smoothed  down,  and  the  stone  will  fall,  and  neither 
friend  nor  stranger  will  be  concerned  to  ask  which  one 
of  the  forgotten  millions  of  the  earth  was  buried  there. 
Every  vestige  that  we  ever  lived  upon  the  earth  will 
have  vanished  away.  All  the  little  memorials  of  our 
remembrance — the  lock  of  hair  encased  in  gold,  or  the 
portrait  that  hung  in  our  dwelling,  will  cease  to  have 
the  slightest  interest  to  any  living  being.  ) 

We  need  but  look  into  the  cemetery  and  see  the 
ten  thousand  upturned  faces;  ten  thousand  breathless 
bosoms.  There  was  a  time  when  fire  flashed  through 
those  vacant  orbs;  when  warm  ambitions,  hopes,  joys 
and  the  loving  life  pushed  in  those  bosoms.  Dreams 
of  fame  and  power  once  haunted  those  empty  skulls. 
The  little  piles  of  bones,  that  once  were  feet,  ran 
38 


594  j)EATH. 

swiftly  and  determinedly  through  twenty,  forty,  sixty, 
seventy  years  of  life,  but  where  are  the  prints  they 
left?    He  lived — he  died — he  was  buried — is  all  that 
the  headstone  tells  us.    We  move  among  the  monu- 
ments, we  see  the  sculpturing,  but  no  voice  comes  to 
us  to  say  that  the  sleepers  are  remembered  for  any 
thing  they  have  done.    A  generation  passes  by.  Th 
stones  turn  gray,  and  the  man  has  ceased  to  be,  and  \\ 
to  the  world,  as  if  he  had  never  lived. 

Thus  is  life.  Only  a  few  years  do  we  journey  hen 
and.  we  come  to  that  bridge — Death — which  trans« 
ports  us  as  the  road  we  have  traveled,  either  virtue, 
happiness  and  joy,  to  a  happy  paradise  of  love,  or 
the  road  of  passion,  lust  and  vice  to  destructive 
✓  wretchedness. 
/  A  proper  view  of  death  may  be  useful  to  abate  most 
of  the  irregular  passions.  Thus,  for  instance,  we  may 
see  what  avarice  comes  to  in  the  coffin  of  the  miser; 
this  is  the  man  who  could  never  be  satisfied  with  riches  ;• 
but  see  now  a  few  boards  enclose  him,  and  a  few  square 
inches  contain  him.  Study  ambition  in  the  grave  of 
that  enterprising  man;  see  his  great  designs,  his  bound- 
less expedients  are  all  shattered  and  sunk  in  this  fatal 
gulf  of  all  Human  projects.  Approach  the  tomb  of  the 
proud  man;  see  the  haughty  countenance  dreadfully 
disfigured,  and  the  tongue  that  spoke  the  most  lofty 
things  condemned  to  eternal  silence.  Go  to  the  tomb 
of  the  monarch,  and  there  study  quality;  behold  his 
great  titles,  his  royal  robes,  and  all  his  flatteries — all 
are  no  more  forever  in  this  world.  Behold  the  conse- 
quence of  intemperance  in  the  tomb  of  the  glutton; 


DEATH. 


595 


see  his  appetite  now  fully  satiated,  his  senses  destroyed 
and  his  bones  scattered.  Thus  the  tombs  of  the  wicked 
condemn  their  practice  and  strongly  recommend  virtue^ 

Death  reigns  in  all  the  portions  of  our  time.  The 
autumn,  with  its  fruits,  provides  disorders  for  us,  and 
the  winter's  cold  turns  them  into  sharp  diseases;  and 
the  spring  brings  flowers  to  strew  our  hearse;  and  the 
summer  gives  green  turf  and  brambles  to  bind  upon 
our  graves.  Calentures  and  surfeit,  cold  and  agues 
are  the  four  quarters  of  the  year,  and  all  minister  unto 
death.  Go  where  you  will  and  it  will  find  you.  Many 
dread  it  and  try  to  flee  from  it  as  the  king  of  terrors. 
(is  he  an  enemy,  when  God  sends  him  to  deliver  us 
from  pains,  follies,  disappointments,  miseries  and  wo? 
Is  he  an  enemy,  who  transfers  us  from  delusive  dreams 
from  the  region  of  bubbles  and  corroding  cares,  to  a 
region  where  all  is  pure,  substantial,  enduring  joy  and 
endless  felicity?  It  is  a  libel  on  death  to  call  him  our 
foe,  a  king  of  terrors,  an  enemy. 

Frail  man  comes  into  the  world  crying,  cries  on 
through  life,  and  is  always  seeking  after  some  desired 
thing  which  he  imagines  is  labelled  happiness,  or  is 
mourning  over  some  loss,  which  makes  him  miserable; 
a  restless  mortal  body,  with  an  immortal  soul,  that 
requires  something  more  than  earth  can  give  to  satisfy 
its  lofty  desires;  the  soul  that  hails  death  as  the  wel- 
come messenger,  to  deliver  it  from  its  ever  changing, 
ever  decaying  prison-house  of  clay,  called  man;  on 
which  time  wages  -a  perpetual  war;  whitening  his 
locks,  furrowing  his  cheeks,  stealing  his  ivory,  weak- 
ening his  nerves,  paralyzing  his  muscles,  poisoning  his 


596 


DEATH. 


blood,  battering  Iris  whole  citadel,  deranging  the  whole 
machinery  of  life,  and  wasting  his  mental  powers;  until 
he  becomes  twice  a  child;  and  then  delivers  him  over 
to  his  last  and  best  friend,  death,  who  breaks  the 
carnal  bondage,  sets  the  imprisoned  spirit  free,  closing 
a  toilsome  career  of  infelicity;  opening  the  door  of 
immortal  happiness,  returning  the  soul  to  its  own, 
original,  and  glorious  home;  to  go  no  more  out  forever. 
Not  to  become  familiar  with  death,  is  to  endure  much 
unnecessary  fear,  and  add  to  the  myriads  of  the  other 
imaginary  woes  of  human  life. 

Death  to  them  that  be  God's  dear  children  is  no 
other  thing  than  the  despatcher  of  all  displeasure,  the 
end  of  all  travail,  the  door  of  desires,  the  gate  of  glad- 
ness, the  port  of  paradise,  the  haven  of  heaven,  the 
entrance  to  felicity,  the  beginning  of  all  blissfulness.  It 
is  the  very  bed  of  down  for  the  doleful  bodies  of  God's 
people  to  rest  in,  out  of  which  they  rise  and  awake 
most  fresh  and  lusty  to  everlasting  life.  It  is  a  passage 
to  the  Father,  a  chariot  to  heaven,  the  Lord's  messen- 
ger, a  going  to  our  home,  a  deliverance  from  bondage, 
a  dismission  from  war,  a  security  from  all  sorrows,  and 
a  manumission  from  all  misery.  And  should  we  be 
dismayed  at  it  ?  Should  we  trouble  to  hear  of  it  ? 
Should  such  a  friend  as  it  be  unwelcome  ?  Death  is 
but  life  to  a  true  believer ;  it  is  not  his  last  day,  nor  his 
worst  day,  but  in  the  highest  sense  his  best  day.  and 
the  beginning  of  his  better  life.  A  Christian's  dying 
day  will  be  his  enlarging  day,  when  he  shall  be  freed 
from  the  prison  in  which  he  has  long  been  detained, 
and  be  brought  home  to  his  Father's  house.    A  Chris- 


DEATH. 


597 


tian's  dying  day  will  be  his  resting  day,  when  he  shall 
rest  from  all  sin  and  care  and  trouble ;  his  reaping 
day,  when  he  shall  reap  the  fruit  he  has  sown  in  tears 
and  faith ;  his  conquering  clay,  when  he  shall  triumph 
over  every  enemy,  and  even  death  itself  shall  die ;  his 
transplanting  day,  from  earth  £o  heaven,  from  a  howl- 
ing wilderness  to  a  heavenly  paradise ;  his  robing 
day,  to  put  off  the  old  worn-out  rags  of  flesh,  and 
put  on  the  new  and  glorious  robes  of  light ;  his 
marriage  day ;  his  coronation  day ;  the  day  of  his 
glory,  the  beginning  of  his  eternal ,  perfect  bliss  with 
Christ.^ 

We  at  death  leave  one  place  to  go  to  another ;  if 
godly  we  depart  from  our  place  here  on  earth,  and  go 
to  heaven ;  we  depart  from  our  friends  on  earth  and 
go  to  our  friends  in  heaven ;  we  depart  from  the  valley 
of  tears  and  go  to  the  mount  of  joy ;  we  depart  from 
a  howling  wilderness  and  go  to  a  heavenly  paradise. 
Cwh  o  would  be  unwilling  to  exchange  a  Sodom  for  a 
Zion,  an  Egypt  for  a  Canaan,  misery  for  glory?) 
(What  a  superlatively  grand  and  consoling  idea  is 
that  of  death  !  Without  this  radiant  idea,  this  delight- 
ful morning  star,  indicating  that  the  luminary  of  eter- 
nity is  going  to  rise,  life  would,  to  our  view,  darken 
into  midnight  melancholy.  Oh,  the  expectation  of 
living  here,  and  of  living  thus  always,  would,  be  indeed 
a  prospect  of  overwhelming  despair !  But  thanks  be 
to  that  fatal  decree  that  dooms  us  to  die !  thanks  to 
that  gospel  which  opens  the  vision  of  an  endless  life ! 
and  thanks,  above  all,  to  that  Savior  friend  who  has 
promised  to  conduct  all  th<i  faithful  through  the  sacred 


598 


DEATH. 


trance  of  death,  into  scenes  of  paradise  and  everlasting 
deiightjj 

Oh,  that  all  may  be  prepared  for  this  awful  change, 
but  how  often  we  hear  the  mournml  exclamation, 
"Too  latejjf  from  men  who  come  up  to  the  doors  of  a 
bank  just  as  the  key  has  turned  in  the  lock ;  or  up  to 
the  great  gates  of  a  railway  terminus  just  as  they 
swing  to,  and  tell  the  tardy  traveler  he  has  lost  his 
train ;  or  up  to  the  post  office  just  as  the  mail  has  been 
despatched ;  but  how  should  we  tremble  if  our  ears 
could  hear  the  despairing  cr}'  of  souls  whom  the  stony 
gaze  of  that  grim  messenger  has  fixed  in  sin  forevex^j 
How  would  our  hearts  thrill  with  horror  to  accompany 
one,  without  hope  of  heaven,  to  the  portals  of  death. 
^  How  do  men  dread  such  death  scenes  as  that  of  a 
young  skeptic  called  suddenly  from  time  to  eternity. 
"Begone!"  he  cried  to  the*  clergyman  ;  "I  want  none 
of  your  cant"  when  he  showed  him  the  great  need  of 
repentance.  "I  am  not  going  to  die;  and  if  I  were  I 
would  die  as  I  have  lived."  The  physician  came,  to 
whom  he  said:  "Oh!  tell  me  I  am  not  dying;  I  will 
not  die!"  "My  poor  friend,  I  cannot  speak  falsely  to 
y(5u ;  your  soul  will,  ere  long,  be  with  your  God." 
u  My  God  I"  he  said,  "I  have  no  God  save  the  world; 
I  have  stifled  conviction,  I  have  fought  against  God,  I 
have  resisted  my  mother's  pleadings,  and  now  you  tell 
me  that  I  must  die.  Do  you  know,"  he  added,  in 
an  awful  whisper,  "all  that  means?  If  I  die  to-day 
I  shall  <ro  to  hell!  Take  it  back;  tell  me  I'm  not* 
going  to  die.  Father,"  he  said,  "  Was  you  who  taught 
me  this;  you  led  me  on  in  this  way,  and  now  you 


jJEATH. 


599 


say  fm  to  die.  Stand  back!"  he  shrieked;  "/  will 
not  die!"  and  a  torrent  of  invectives  issued  from  his 
fever-parched  lips,  so  terrible  in  their  madness  that  it 
seemed  like  a  wail  from  the  sea  of  woe.  No  wonder 
the  poor  mother  was  borne  fainting  from  the  room, 
and  the  father's  brow  was  corrugated,  while  great 
drops  of  agony  rested  there.  Ah,  that  infidel  father! 
how  must  his  hear,t  have  bled  in  that  dreadful  hour, 
when  in  the  midst  of  dire  cursings,  his  gifted  son  fell 
back  a  corpse^ 

What  a  striking  contrast  between  such  a  death  and 
the  following: 

L  One  of  Martin  Luther's  children  lay  on  her  death 
bed;  the  great  man  approached  her  and  said  to  her: 
"  My  little  daughter,  my  beloved  Margaret,  you  would 
willingly  remain  with  your  earthly  parents,  but  if  God 
calls  you,  you  will  go  with  your  heavenly  Father." 
"Yes,  dear  father,  it  is  as  God  pleases."  He  then  said: 
"My  daughter,  enter  thou  into  thy  resting  place  in 
peace."  She  turned  her  eyes  towards  him  and  said, 
with  touching  simplicity,  "Yes,  father."  How  resign- 
edly could  the  believing  Luther  part  with  his  dying 
child,  and  methinks  the  sentiment  of  his  heart  was 
very  like  the  inscription  on  a  child's  tombstone  in  an 
English  churchyard,  as  follows:  "'Who  plucked  that 
flower?'  cried  the  gardener,  as  he  walked  through  the 
garden.  His  fellow  servant  answered,  'The  Master.' 
And  the  gardener  held  his  peace." 
(  When  this  hand  of  mine  shall  be  pulseless  and  cold, 
and  motionless  as  the  grave  wherein  it  must  lie;  when 
the  damp,  dewy  vapors  shall  replace  "this  sensible, 


600 


DEATH. 


warm  motion, n  and  death  shall  spread  my  couch  and 
weave  my  shroud ;  when  the  winding-sheet  shall  be  my 
sole  vesture,  and  the  close-sealed  sepulchre  my  only 
home,  and  I  shall  have  no  familiar  companion,  and  no 
rejoicing  friend  but  the  worm;  O,  thou  cold  hand  of 
death,  unlock  for  me  then  the  portals  of  eternal  life, 
that  whilst  my  body  rests  in  its  bed  of  earth,  my  soul 
may  recline  in  the  bosom  of  God!  # 

"  Life !  we've  been  long  together, 
Through  pleasant  and  cloudy  weather; 
'Tis  hard  to  part,  when  friends  are  dear; 
Perhaps  'twill  cost  a  sigh,  a  tear; 
Then  steal  away,  give  little  warning, 
Choose  thine  own  time; 

Say  not,  Good  night,  but  in  some  brighter  clime 
Bid  me  good  morning." 


THE  END. 


WHAT  IS  SAID  OF  IT. 


Dr.  C.  H.  Fowler,  Editor  of  "  The  Chris- 
tian Advocate,"  New  York,  says  : 
"'The  Royal  Path  of  Life'  is  open  before 
me.  Its  practical  and  suggestive  subjects  in- 
vite attention,  and  the  manner  in  which  they 
are  handled  retains  it.  Its  principles  and  sug- 
gestions applied  will  secure  success. 

)"One  idea  to  a  man  in  the  beginning  of 
life  is  worth  many  books.  This  one  book  will 
furnuk  many  ideas.    Brother  man,  read  it." 

President  W.  H.  Allen,  M.D.,  LL.D., 
of  Girard  College,  Philadelphia,  says : 
"I  have  examined  'The  Royal  Path  of 
Life,'  and  noted  its  direction,  the  lands 
through  which  it  passes,  and  the  end  to  which 
it  leads.  It  is  a  straight  path,  and  the  young 
man  who  walks  in  it  will  not  go  astray  in 
crooked  ways.  It  is  a  safe  path,  and  the 
young  woman  who  walks  in  it  will  not  be 
caught  in  a  snare  nor  fall  into  a  pit.  It  is 
the  path  of  wisdom,  in  whose  right  hand  is 
length  of  days,  and  in  her  left  hand  riches 
and  honor.  In  a  word,  the  book  is  full  of 
wise  precepts  for  the  conduct  of  life,  gath- 
ered from  numerous  sources,  and  clothed  in 
a  perspicuous  style." 

J.  Grier  Ralston,  D.  D.,  LL.D.,  Prin- 
cipal of  Oakland  Female  Institute, 
Norristown,  Pa.,  says : 
"lam  much  obliged  to  you  for  calling  my 
attention  to  '  The  Royal  Path  of  Life.'  It  is 
a  book  of  rare  excellence.  I  have  read  it 
with  interest  and  profit,  and  think  it  will  be 
found  attractive  alike  to  the  old  and  young, 
to  the  grave  and  gay.  The  subjects  of  which 
it  treats  are  all  practical,  and  are  so  discussed 
as  to  furnish  lessons  for  daily  use.  The  spirit 
of  the  book  is  eminently  Christian,  its  doc- 
trines evangelical,  its  style  crisp  and  lucid,  its 
language  direct  and  vigorous,  and  all  its  teach- 
ings pure  and  elevating.  It  does  not  contain 
a  dull  or  prosy  page.  Any  one  who  reads  the 
first  four  chapters  will  want  to  finish  the  book. 

"  While  I  give  it  my  hearty  indorsement,  I 
cordially  recommend  it  to  the  general  reader 
as  highly  entertaining  and  instructive,  and 
especially  to  the  young  as  a  judicious  coun- 
sellor, a  safe  guide,  and  a  discreet  friend." 


L.  Marks,  D.D.,  Pastor  of  the  Hanovear 
Street  Presbyterian  Church,  Wil- 
mington, Del.,  says  : 
"'The  Royal  Path  of  Life'  embraces  a 
large  number  of  important  topics  discussed  in 
a  brief  but  able  manner.    The  work  abounds 
in  noble  sentiments  well  expressed,  and  de- 
serves a  place  in  every  family  library.  The 
publishers  have  done  their  part  of  the  work 
well.    The  book  will  doubtless  meet  with  a 
ready  sale,  and  be  read  with  interest  and  with 
profit.  It  affords  us  pleasure  to  give  it  our  hearty 
indorsement." 

W.  M.  Stanford,  M.  S.,  Pastor  of  the 
Fulton  Street  Evangelical  Church, 
Pittsburgh,  Pa.,  says: 

"  In  journeying  observingly  along  '  The 
Royal  Path  of  Life,'  a  number  of  marked  ex- 
cellences strike  the  attention :  First,  the  quite 
successful  blending  of  the  theoretical  with  the 
practical.  Secondly,  the  natural  order  of  the 
many  subjects,  as  so  many  steps  in  'The 
Royal  Path,'  exhibits  mature  judgment  in 
selection  and  exceptional  wisdom  in  arrange- 
ment, one  step  always  preparing  the  traveller 
for  the  next  above  it.  ThirdlyfKn  the  treat- 
ment of  these  subjects  we  notice  the  beauti- 
ful blending  of  two  indispensable  qualities, 
namely,  brevity  and  perspicuity.  It  gives  the 
kernel  without  the  hull,  the  wheat  without  the 
chaff.  Finally,  its  thought  is  ever  pure,  fresh, 
and  vigorous,  presented  in  the  most  pleasing, 
clear,  and  forcible  diction,  leaving  with  the 
careful  reader  a  lasting  impression  and  strong 
resolutions  to  reach  a  higher  plane  of  life. 

"The  'Royal  Path'  should  be  in  every 
family,  and  would  be  a  happy  substitute  fo7 
much  of  the  trifling  and  corrupting  '  Book- 
Furniture  '  that  to-day  decks  the  centre-tables 
of  so  many  American  homes." 

O.  C.  Pope,  Editor  of  "  The  Baptist 
Herald,"  Houston,  Texas,  says: 

"  I  most  cordially  and  heartily  commend 
*  The  Royal  Path  of  Life.'  It  is  a  book  that 
will  be  read  by  the  great  masses  of  the  people, 
and,  next  to  the  Bible,  is  the  most  valuable 
book  ever  printed  in  the  English  language. 
It  is  a  thoroughly  practical  guide  in  the  every- 
day walks  of  life." 


Dr.  Geo.  H.  Wbitney.  Principal  of  the 
^Hackettstown,  N.  J.,  Collegiate  In- 
stitute, and  Author  of  the  cele- 
brated "  Handbook  of  Bible  Geog- 
raphy," says  * 

"  There  are  many  hooks ;  good,  bad,  and 
indifferent.  The  '  Royal  Path  of  Life '  is  a 
good  book ;  one  of  the  best  that  I  know  of  for 
the  Family.  It  is  good  to  read  by  the  hour, 
and  especially  good  to  pick  up  and  read  in 
those  odd  minutes  that  so  many  people  waste 
because  they  have  nothing  else  to  do.  This 
book  will  bless  wherever  it  goes.  Wlioever 
buys  it  is  sure  to  read  it." 

Rev.  Dr.  Swan,  Pastor  of  the  Kinney 
St.  Baptist  Chuich,  Newark,  N.  J., 
says  : 

"'The  Royal  Path  of  Life'  is  elegantly 
bound  and  very  attractive.  The  selections 
indicate  a  high  range  of  action  and  great 
purity  of  mind.  The  combination  of  the 
best  thoughts  of  great  minds,  in  one  book,  in- 
troduces one  to  a  small  library  at  once.  Few 
can  afford  the  luxury  of  many  books  by  many 
authors,  and  therefore  a  book  like  this  meets  a 
great  want  in  those  whose  ability  is  limited  in 
the  matter  of  purchase.  No  one  confers  a  better 
service  on  humanity  than  the  man  who  perpet- 
uates pure  thoughts.   1  wish  the  book  success." 

Rev.  Wm.  T.  Findley,  Pastor  of  the 
Central  Presbyterian  Church,  New- 
ark, N.  J.,  says : 
^  I  accord  with  the  above  recommendation 
by  Dr.  Swan,  and  wish  the  agent  success  in 
procuring  subscribers  for  the  work,  as  thereby 
he  not  only  circulates  a  literature  which  is 
profitable  to  the  readers,  but  aids  himself  in 
self-education,  which  is  the  noble  object  of 
his  pursuit." 

President  Edward  Brooks,  Ph.  D.,  of 
the  State  Normal  School,  Millers- 
ville,  Pa.,  says : 

"  I  regard  the  *  Royal  Path  of  Life  '  as  an 
interesting  and  valuable  book  for  all  classes 
of  readers. " 

Rev.  A.  H.  Tuttle,  Pastor  of  the  M.  E. 
Church,  Hack etts town,  N.  J.,  says: 

"  After  careful  examination  of  4  The  Royal 
Path  of  Life'  I  am  prepared  to  commend  it 
most  heartily  as  wort ny  of  a  place  in  every 
family. »  It  is  pure,  suggestive,  inspiring,  and 
full  of  the  flavor  of  the  '.iospel.  It  is  indeed 
a  faithful  exhibit  of  :he  Royal  Path." 


Prof.  R.  H.  Skinner,  A.  M.,  Principal 
f  of    the    Wilmington  Conference 
Academy,  Dover,  Del.,  says:  r 

"  The  desire  for  a  successful  life  is  a  fixed 
principle  in  the  human  breast.  Youth  looks 
ahead  to  it ;  manhood  reaches  out  after  it ; 
age  clings  to  it ;  all  want  it ;  most  will  work 
for  it,  but  how  to  attain  to  it  is  the  problem. 

"  I  have  perused  with  care  the  '  Royal  Path 
of  Life,'  and  find  it  brimful  of  earnest  words, 
wise  counsels,  and  valuable  helps.  I  heartily 
commend  it  to  those  who  aspire  to  success. 
The  youth  who  reads  this  book  will  find  new 
hopes  arising  in  his  mind,  new  possibilities 
opening  up  before  him ;  the  faint-hearted  is 
encouraged;  the  tardy  is  quickened;  the 
baffled  resolves  anew  to  win." 

President  A.  Holbrook,  National  Nor- 
mal  School,  Lebanon,  O.,  says  : 

" '  The  Royal  Path  of  Life '  is  a  valuable 
book,  and  will  take  a  place  with  '  The  Book ' 
on  every  centre-table  or  book-shelf.  It  is  not 
an  easy  task  to  find  readable  material  on 
moral  topics,  but  the  compilers  have  solved 
the  problem ;  and  this  book,  once  taken  up, 
the  succession  of  interesting  themes  will  hold 
the  attention  of  even  the  casual  reader." 

Rev.  J.  B.  Quigg,  P.  E.,  M.  E.  Church, 

Wilmington,  Del.,  says: 

"  I  have  examined  the  '  Royal  Path  of  Life,' 
and  consider  it  an  excellent  book,  full  of  in- 
teresting and  profitable  reading.  It  is  very 
much  prized  in  my  family." 

Rev.  A.  B.  Morey,  Pastor  Fifth  Pres- 
byterian Church,  Cincinnati,  O., 
says: 

« «  The  Royal  Path  of  Life '  is  rich  in  bright, 
beautiful  thoughts.  It  leads  one  up  into  a 
better  life.  It  is  suggestive,  stimulating, 
strengthening.  It  ought  to  brighten  up  many 
a  home.  It  will  come  like  a  gleam  of  sun- 
shine across  any  life  whose  pathway  is  rough 
and  shaded." 

Hon.  Gustavus  J.  Orr,  Commissioner 
of  Public  Instruction,  Atlanta,  Ga., 

says : 

"  I  am  satisfied  that  1  The  Royal  Path  of 
Life '  is  a  book  of  merit,  and  its  perusal  will 
benefit  all  readers.  It  is  especially  adapted 
for  the  use  of  families,  and  those  who  have 
few  books,  as  it  almost  comprises  a  library  by 
1  itself." 


Rev.  J.  C.  Roller,  Pastoi  of  St.  Mat- 
thew's Lutheran  Church,  Hanover, 
Pa.,  says : 

" '  The  Royal  Path  of  Life  '  is  a  book  of 
real  and  permanent  worth.  I  have  examined 
it  carefully  and  read  some  of  the  selections 
with  great  satisfaction.  The  subjects  treated 
of,  although  trite  and  familiar,  have  fresh  and 
living  interest,  because  of  the  authors'  pure 
style,  noble  thoughts,  earnest  Christian  spirit, 
well-chosen  illustrations,  and  admirable  les- 
sons. Every  family  who  can  afford  to  buy 
even  only  a  few  Jaooks,  will  find  this  one  well 
worth  their  possession;  and  if  every  young 
man  and  woman  were  to  read  and  ponder  it, 
their  characters  could  not  fail  to  reap  the  bra- 
cing benefits  of  its  chaste  and  vigorous  senti- 
ments. Whoever  gives  it  a  wide  circulation 
is  a  benefactor  to  the  community." 


Rev.  Jacob  Sechler,  Pastor  of  the 
Manheim  Reformed  Charge,  Han- 
over, Pa.,  says: 

"The  book  called  'The  Royal  Path  of 
Life  '  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  and  edify- 
ing works  that  has  ever  been  offered  to  the 
public.  The  reading  of  the  book  has  an  en- 
chanting and  fascinating  influence  upon  the 
human  mind.  Having  examined  the  work,  I 
can  in  good  faith  recommend  it  to  the  aged 
and  young,  and  assure  them,  if  they  secure 
this  book,  and  read  it  carefully,  they  will 
never  regret  the  money  they  gave  for  it." 


Rev.  Henry  B.  Strodach,  Pastor  of 
St.  Paul's  Lutheran  Church,  Norris- 
town,  Pa.,  says: 

"  The  appearance  of  the  book  '  The  Royal 
Path  of  Life '  at  once  leads  us  to  expect  that 
in  so  beautiful  a  casket  will  be  found  a  pre- 
cious pearl;  and  our  expectation  is  not  only 
realized,  but  much  surpassed,  for  we  find  not 
only  one  but  one  hundred  and  fourteen  gems. 
For  each  article,  in  the  purity  of  its  diction, 
the  elevation  of  its  tone,  and  the  simplicity  of 
its  style,  is  not  only  a  literary  gem,  but,  with 
its  ennobling  contents  and  influence,  a  moral 
power  for  good.  To  specify  any  one  special 
article  would  be  to  institute  comparisons,  and 
comparisons  are  notably  invidious.  Suffice  it  to 
say  that  any  youth  or  maiden,  man  or  woman, 
who  reads  it  will  be  the  better  for  having  had 
the  book  in  his  or  her  possession ;  and  that,  in 
these  days  of '  much  book-making,'  is  high,  but 
surely,  in  this  instance,  well-deserved  praise." 


|  Isaac  Gibson,  Rector  of  St  John  a 
J     Church,  Norristcwn,  Pa.,  Bays: 

"  I  have  examined  '  The  Royal  Path  of 
Life,'  and  find  it  well  calculated  to  impress 
us  with  those  feelings  and  purposes  which 
belong  to  a  noble  and  successful  manhood 
and  womanhood.  With  singular  aptness  it 
presents  the  leading  influences  which  tend  to 
form  a  well-rounded  and  robust  character, 
and  with  great  clearness  describes  those  vir- 
tues and  graces  which  are  at  once  its  orna- 
ments and  its  fruits." 

Elder  C.  H.  Forney  HarrJsburg,  Pa^ 
Editor  of  "The  Church  Advocate," 
says : 

"A  glance  at  the  tabJc  nt  contents  at  once 
shows  what  this  book  i.s,  and  also  the  eminent 
fitness  of  the  sub-title — Aims  and  Aids  to 
Success  and  Happiness.  The  work  is  admi- 
rable in  spirit,  thoroughly  evangelical  in  teach- 
ing, and  sound  in  moral  principles.  No  book 
recently  issued  from  the  press,  that  has  come 
under  our  notice,  would  we  rather  put  into 
every  family  than  this  one.  it  is  capital  in 
every  respect." 

James  Roberts,  Pastor  of  the  Presby- 
terian Church,  Coatee vule,  Pa.,  says: 
"  Those  who  buy  *  The  Royal  Path  of  Life  * 
will  find  that  it  contains  entertaining  and  in- 
structive reading,  suggestive  and  helpful  to 
those  who  are  thoughtfully  marking  out  the 
path  of  life  for  themselves  and  friends." 

Daniel  J.  Hauer,  DD,  Pastor  of  the 
Manheim    Evangelical  Lutheran 
Charge,  York  Co,  Pa  says: 
"  Having  given  the  book  entitled  '  The 
Royal  Path  of  Life*  a  cursory  reading,  I 
found  much  to  interest,  edify,  and  incite  the 
mind  to  high  and  noble  aspirations,  and  I 
therefore  commend  it  to  the  public  .\t  worthy 
of  patronage." 

Professor  Wm.  Grim,  A.  M.  on  New 
Market,  Shenandoan  Cc.Va  ,  says: 
"  From  a  cursory  examination  of 1  The  Royal 
Path  of  Life,'  I  unhesitatingly  declare  it  a  book 
valuable  alike  to  old  and  young,  v>.  guide  to  the 
latter  and  a  source  of  unfailing  consolation  to 
the  former  —  worthy  a  place  besMe  the  sacred 
volume  in  the  library  and  at  the  fireside  of 
every  Christian  family." 


Rev.  A.  B.  Sterner,  Pastor  of  Trinity 
Reformed  Church,  Norristown,  Pa., 
says: 

"  I  have  carefully  read  your  work  entitled 
*  The  Royal  Path  of  Life,'  and  wish  to  ex- 
press my  high  appreciation  of  it.  I  regard  it 
as  one  of  the  few  books  that  will  be  found  at 
once  deeply  interesting  and  highly  instruct- 
ive to  the  general  reader.  It  is  both  soundly 
metaphysical  and  eminently  practical.  Its 
style  is  lofty \  pleasing  and  beautiful ;  its  dic- 
tion pure  and  plain;  its  tone  throughly 
Christian.  Although  its  pages  are  made  up 
of  distinct  and  somewhat  disconnected  es- 
says, each  complete  in  itself,  it  reads  like  a 
romance.  But  while  it  is  thus  fascinating,  we 
have  the  additional  satisfaction  of  useful 
knowledge,  acquired  at  each  step  of  our 
progress.  We  need  not  hasten  to  unravel 
the  story,  as  alas  !  we  are  only  too  prone  to 
do  when  perusing  works  of  fiction.  We  may 
linger  as  long  as  we  wish  by  the  way  ;  for 
each  essay  furnishes  material  for  much  solid 
thought  and  profitable  meditation.  'l 

Rev.  J.  Dyson,  Pastor  of  Oak  Street 
M.  E.  Church,  Norristown,  Pa.,  says  : 

"  I  have  read  '  The  Royal  Path  of  Life,' 
and  unhesitatingly  recommend  it — a  book 
that  will  be  read  with  interest  and  profit  by 
every  one  fortunate  in  securing  a  copy.  I 
give  my  full  endorsement  to  all  the  very  ex- 
cellent things  said  concerning  it  by  Dr.  Rals- 
ton, the  Rev.  Mr.  Gibson,  and  others." 

Rev.  B.  F.  Bohner,  Pastor  of  the 
Evangelical  Church,  Norristown, 
Pa.,  says : 

"  I  have  examined  and  partly  read  1  The 
Royal  Path  of  Life.'  It  is  a  good  book,  very 
readable,  and  of  the  best  moral  tendency. 
The  old  as  well  as  the  young  can  only  be 
profited  by  subscribing  for  and  reading  a 
copy  of  the  work.  It  ought  to  have  a  very 
wide  circulation." 

President  I.  C.  Pershing,  D.  D.,  of 
Pittsburgh  Female  College,  says  : 

"  A  somewhat  hurried  examination  of  'The 
Royal  Path  of  Life '  has  left  a  most  delightful 
impression.  The  style  is  simple,  clear  and 
often  beautiful,  the  tone  elevated,  the  aim  of 
the  writers  excellent.  I  cordially  commend 
the  book  as  one  worthy  a  place  m  every 
home.  Its  perusal  will  bring  both  pleasure 
and  profit." 


Rev.  S.  Siegfried,  Pastor  of  the  Bap. 
tist  Church,  Norristown,  Pa.,  says: 

"  '  The  Royal  Path  of  Life  ;  or,  Aims  and 
Aids  to  Success  and  Happiness,'  is  just  what 
its  title  indicates.  It  is  a  book  for  the  home, 
to  be  read  and  studied.  Its  articles  are  gems, 
and  are  edifying  to  all  the  members  of  the 
household — the  grave  and  the  gay  will  find  a 
portion  in  season.  The  ambition,  enlighten- 
ed and  enthused  by  such  a  counselor  as  this 
book,  will  aspire  to  the  chaste  and  beautiful 
in  the  '  royal  path  of  life,'  and  will  find  '  hap- 
piness'and  achieve  'success.'  I  cheerfully 
add  my  commendation  of  its  merits." 

President  J.  H.  A.  Bomherger,  D.  D., 
of  Ursinus  College,  Collegeville,  Pa., 

says: 

"Although  I  have  been  unable  to  give 
'  The  Royal  Path  of  Life  '  more  than  a  brief 
and  cursory  examination,  its  aim  and  ruling 
spirit  have  impressed  me  favorably.  The  es- 
says are  upon  most  important,  practical  sub- 
jects, written  in  a  style  attractive  for  most 
readers,  and  offer  wholesome  counsel  and 
profitable  entertainment.  Many  a  winter 
evening  hour  can  be  usefully  and  pleasantly 
employed  in  their  perusal." 

Professor  George  R.  Thompson,  Prin- 
cipal of  the  Friends'  School,  Wil- 
mington, Bel.,  says : 

"  After  a  somewhat  hasty  examination  of 
'  The  Royal  Path  of  Life,'  I  am  impressed 
with  the  fidelity  with  which  the  authors  have 
endeavored  to  further  their  design  of  1  stimu- 
lating the  youth  to  noble  thoughts  and  ac- 
tions.' If  they  have  not  marked  out  the  ex- 
act limits  of  '  the  royal  path  of  life,'  they  have 
at  least  set  no  false  guide-posts  by  the  way. 

"  The  work  treats  briefly,  but  interestingly, 
of  such  old-fashioned  topics  as  '  Integrity,' 
'  Industry,'  '  Slander,'  'Vanity,'  etc. — subjects 
well  worth  consideration  in  these  days  of 
loose  moral  notions.  It  may  not  appeal 
strongly  to  the  tastes  of  the  professedly  intel- 
lectual class  of  the  community,  but  for  the 
people  it  will  have  solid  attractions.  That  its 
contents  are  so  varied  will  be  a  great  recom- 
mendation to  those  who  have  not  the  means 
to  purchase  many  books.  But  perhaps  a  still 
greater  recommendation  is  that  it  contains 
nothing  that  parents  need  fear  to  have  their 
children  read,  and  much  that  will  interest, 
instruct  and  guide  them." 


Rev.  Thomas  W,  Humes,  S.  T.  D., 
President  of  the  East  Tennessee 
State  University,  says: 

"  I  have  no  hesitation  in  expressing  the 
opinion  that  its  general  circulation  will  tend 
decidedly  to  promote  the  cause  of  virtue,  the 
welfare  of  families,  and  the  vital  power  of 
religion  among  the  people;  and  I  therefore 
recommend  it  to  the  public." 


Rev.  S.  R.  Preston,  Pastor  of  the  Pres- 
byterian Church,  Athens,  Tenn., 
says: 

"  This  book  is  full  of  practical  truth.  It  is 
at  once  entertaining  and  instructive.  The 
conception  is  fine,  the  religious  tone  is  eleva- 
ting, language  concise  and  pointed.  While 
pointing  steadily  to  '  The  Royal  Path  of  Life,' 
it  fixes  the  attention  upon  the  breakers,  where 
so  many  are  dashed  to  pieces.  It  is  a  good 
book  for  everybody,  but  especially  for  the 
young.  After  a  thorough  examination,  I  can 
cordially  recommend  it  to  every  family  as  a 
valuable  addition  to  the  home  library." 

Rev.  A.W.Jones,  B.B.,  President  of 
the  Memphis  Conference  Female 
Institute*  Jackson,  Tenn.,  says : 

"  'The  Royal  Path  of  Life'  is,  in  my  judg- 
ment, an  admirable  book,  very  attractive  and 
useful.  It  is  well  suited  to  the  family  circle, 
and  if  carefully  read  will  have  a  happy  and 
elevating  influence  on  all  the  relations  of  life. 
It  has  my  earnest  commendation.  I  would 
like  to  see  it  published  in  a  number  of  small 
volumes,  for  the  use  of  Sunday  schools." 

Rev.  A.  J.  Battle,  B.  B.,  President 
Mercer  University,  Macon,  Ga.,  says : 

"I  have  read  with  much  interest  the  vol- 
ume entitled  'The  Royal  Path  of  Life,'  and 
regard  it  as  a  valuable  source  of  instruction, 
especially  to  the  young.  It  contains  a  great 
variety  of  practical  lessons,  inculcating  much 
religious,  moral  and  secular  wisdom,  essential 
to  character  and  success.  I  wish  that  all  our 
young  men  might  carry  its  wise  maxims  into 
practice."   

Rev.  W.  E.  Bass,  B.B.,  President  Wes- 
leyan  Female  College,  Macon,  Ga., 
says :  ( 

"  From  a  cursory  examination  I  am  per- 
suaded that  'The  Royal  Path  of  Life '  is  a  most 
valuable  work,  and  worthy  of  a  place  in  every 
Christian  family.  I  most  heartily  commend  it." 


Prof.  H.  C.  Irhy,  A.M.,  of  the  South- 
western Baptist  University,  Jack- 
son, Tenn.,  says : 

"  'The  Royal  Path  of  Life'  is  full  of  read- 
able matter.  Indeed,  two  or  three  essays  oj 
best  selections  will  give  food  to  the  reflective 
mind  that  will  be  a  full  compensation  for  the 
cost  of  the  whole  book.'''' 

Rev.  S.  R-  Gwaltney,  B.  B.,  President 
Judson  Institute,  Marion,  Alabama, 
says :  i 

"  '  The  Royal  Path  of  Life '  modestly  pro- 
fesses, in  the  preface,  to  be  a  'counselor  to  those 
who  have  become  indifferent  to  life's  purposes, 
and  a  comfort  to  those  who  have  long  traveled 
this  royal  path,'  '  to  stimulate  youth  to  noble 
thoughts  and  actions,  and  lead  them  on  to 
honor  and  happiness.' 

"  The  topics  discussed,  the  treatment,  the 
style,  the  earnest  spirit,  all  attest  the  fidelity 
with  which  this  worthy  aim  has  been  kept  in 
view.    I  cordially  commend  the  book." 


Th©  Rev.  Joseph  H.  Martin,  B.B.,  Pas- 
tor of  First  Presbyterian  Church, 
Atlanta,  Ga.,  says: 

"  Before  reading  '  The  Royal  Path  of  Life ' 
I  concluded,  from  a  hasty  glance,  that  it  was 
merely  a  collection  of  moral  essays  on  the 
topics  treated  of,  without  a  pervading  tone  of 
piety  and  religious  principle. 

"  But,  on  examining  the  work,  I  find  that 
the  spirit  of  the  Christian  religion  is  diffused 
through  it.  In  its  views,  precepts  and  coun- 
sels it  substantially  agrees  with  the  Bible, 
which  perfectly  points  out  the  royal  path  of 
life,  the  highway  of  holiness,  cast  up  by  the 
great  King,  that  leads  to  immortality.  Hence, 
I  have  no  hesitation  in  recommending  the 
book  as  a  valuable  storehouse  of  reflections 
and  suggestions  with  regard  to  the  subjects 
discussed."   

Rev.  H.  R.  Raymond,  B.  B.,  Pastor 
Presbyterian  Church,  and  Presi- 
dent Marion  Female  Seminary,  Ma- 
rion, Ala.,  Says: 

"  'The  Royal  Path  of  Life'  has  been  ex- 
amined by  me,  with  such  care  as  my  limited 
time  would  allow,  and  I  feel  free  to  say  that 
it  has  impressed  me  favorably. 

"  It  seems  well  calculated  to  do  good  in  the 
family,  being  healthful  in  its  moral  and  relig- 
ious teachings ;  and  I  can  commend  it  as  a 
useful  addition  to  any  one's  library." 


President  H.  B.  Brown,  of  the  Indiana 
Normal  School,  says : 

"  The  book  entitled  4  The  Royal  Path  of 
Life  '  contains  more  valuable  information  for 
the  money  than  any  other  book  published.  After 
reading,  no  one  would  regret  having  made  the 
purchase.    It  should  be  in  every  family." 


Rev.  J.  Kelley,  Pastor  of  St.  Joseph's 
Roman  Catholic  Church,  near  Wil- 
mington, Del.,  says: 

M I  believe  the  book  called  '  The  Royal  Path 
of  Life '  to  be  highly  useful,  and  admirably 
adapted  to  promote  good  manners  and  the 
practice  of  the  moral  virtues." 


Rev.  Clement  Lowery,  Pastor  cf  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church  of  Cedar 
Rapids,  says: 

"After  a  careful  examination  of  the  work 
here  presented,  I  take  pleasure  in  giving  it  a 
hearty  welcome  amongst  literary  works  of  de- 
served and  esteemed  merits,  and  wish  it  a  suc- 
cessful and  rapid  introduction." 


Joseph  Shortlidge,  Principal  of  the 
Maplewood  Institute,  Concordville, 
Pa.,  says : 

"  The  able  manner  in  which  '  The  Royal 
Path  of  Life'  treats  of  the  well-chosen  topics 
embodied  in  its  pages  will  make  it  a  house- 
hold treasure." 


The  Very  Rev.  Father  Patrick  Reilly,  ; 
V.  G.,  Pastor  of  St.  Mary'3  Catholic 
Church,  Wilmington,  Del.,  says: 

"  The  book  is  unobjectionable  in  the  first 
place,  and  instructive  in  the  second." 


Rev.  James  Murphy,  Pastor  of  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church  of  Toronto, 
Iowa,  says : 

" '  The  Royal  Path  of  Life,'  a  literary  work 
lately  issued  from  the  press,  is  well  worth 
reading  by  each,  and  many  of  our  fellow 
countrymen  in  particular,  and  by  persons 
skilled  in  English  literature  in  general.  Its 
pages  abound  with  original  thoughts  and  men- 
tal culture,  which  I  am  certainly  convinced 
must  create  for  the  work  a  vast  and  ready 


Kabbi  Dr.  Lilienthal,  Mound  Street 
Synagogue,  Cincinnati,  O.,  says: 
"  It  is  with  great  pleasure  that  I  recommend 
the  book  entitled  ■  The  Royal  Path  of  Life/ 
It  is  full  of  practical  wisdom,  stern,  frank,  ex- 
cellent maxims,  and  reminds  me  of  the  prov- 
erbs of  the  Bible.  The  book  should  adorn 
every  family  table.  Young  and  old  should 
read  it,  ponder  over  the  excellent  essays,  and 
try  to  come  up  to  the  teachings.  It  contains 
no  sectarian  doctrine.  It  is  human  in  the 
best  sense  of  the  word;  and  if  its  rules  are 
carried  out,  peace  and  good-will  among  men, 
charity  and  love  toward  all,  would  be  thereby 
largely  advanced.  Again  I  heartily  and  sin- 
cerely recommend  this  book  as  a  standard 
book  for  eveiy  household." 


Rev.  W.  H.  Thomas,  D.D.,  of  Chicago, 
111.,  Author  of  "The   Origin  and 
Destiny  of  Man,"  says: 
"  '  The  Royal  Path  of  Life '  possesses  the 
merit  of  discussing,  in  a  brief,  practical  way,  a 
large  number  of  important  topics,  making  it  a 
valuable  work  for  the  home  and  the  fireside. 
The  chapter  on  courtship  alone,  if  placed  in 
the  hands  of  youth  at  the  proper  time,  is  worth 
far  more  than  the  cost  of  the  whole  work.v 


John  G.  McWyn,  A.  M.,  Principal  of 
Racine  Academy.Racine,  Wis.,  says: 

"  I  wish  those  who  desire  a  good  book  would 
subscribe  for  this  one,  '  The  Royal  Path  of 
Life.'  It  is  full  of  thoughts  beautiful  and 
grand,  and  it  will  influence  those  who  read  it 
only  for  good.  The  young  men  and  young 
women  of  our  country  ought  to  form  their 
characters  under  the  influence  such  a  book 
will  exert." 


Rev.  James  G.  Dougherty,  of  Ottawa, 
Kansas,  says : 

"  Many  books  need  a  recommendation,  but 
no  intelligent  person  can  examine  4  The  Royal 
Path  of  Life  '  without  feeling  that,  like  every 
good  man,  this  excellent  book  is  its  own  best 
recommendation.  It  gathers  up  and  presents 
in  pleasing  form  the  wisdom  of  the  ages  on 
the  most  homely,  and  so  the  most  practical, 
themes.  It  will  be  found  a  wise  counsellor  in 
every  family  '' 


Gen.  Joshua  L.  Chamberlain,  Ex-Gov. 
of  Maine  and  Pres.  of  Bowdoin  Col- 
lege. 

"  I  have  examined  with  great  interest  the 
book  entitled  4  The  Royal  Path  of  Life,'  and 
find  the  subjects  and  sentiments  are  such  as 
are  worthy  of  the  best  treatment,  and  of  the 
attention  of  every  thoughtful  person.'' 


Rev.  C.W.  Bradlee,  Pastor  M.  E.  Church, 
Alfred,  Maine. 

"No  one  can  read  '  The  Royal  Path  of 
Life  '  without  being  made  purer  and  better 
for  its  perusal.  It  should  bear  a  prominent 
place  in  every  household.'' 


Rev.  B.  G.  Blaisdell,  Pastor  Pleasant  St. 
Church,  Springvale,  Maine. 

"  I  have  examined  '  The  Royal  Path  of 
Life  '  with  intense  interest  and  satisfaction. 
It  is  pure  and  elevating,  and  must  prove  a 
blessing  to  every  one  who  reads  it.  It  gives 
me  pleasure  to  add  my  testimony  to  its  in- 
trinsic worth." 


Rev.  Geo.  G.  Hamilton,  Pastor  Univer- 
salist  Church,  Yarmouth^  Maine. 

41  It  is  with  pleasure  that  I  recommend 
'  The  Royal  Path  of  Life '  as  belonging  to  the 
better  class  of  literature.  Its  healthy,  in- 
vigorating pages  will  prove  a  great  help  to 
every  one  striving  to  reach 'that  *  Royal  Life  ' 
which  stands  as  the  crown  of  earthly  study 
and  labor." 


Rev.  W.  H.  Morrison,  Pastor  Universal- 
is! Church,  Warren,  Mass.,  says : 

"'The  Royal  Path  of  Life '  is  a  perfect 
mine  of  the  choicest  thoughts  from  the  great- 
est authors,  and  no  one  who  can  purchase 
the  book  should  lose  the  opportunity  of  do- 
ing so." 


Rev.  Geo.  W.  Phillips,  Pastor  Plymouth 
Congreg'l  Church,  Worcester,  Mass., 
says: 

"  4  The  Royal  Path  of  Life  '  is  a  book  of 
real  value,  and  I  welcome  it  as  a  healthy 


antidote  to  the  bad  morals  and  wor.^e  spirit 
with  which,  not  a  little,  popular  reading  mat- 
ter is  tainted.  The  book  is  written  by  men 
of  cultivation  and  mental  vigor.  It  will 
work  towards  industry,  social  purity  and 
piety." 


Rev.  E.  E.  Thomas,  Pastor  Bap't  Church, 
Woonsocket,  R.  I.,  says  : 

"  I  have  with  pleasure  examined  '  The 
Royal  Path  of  Life,'  and  find  it  to  be  a  much 
better  book  than  I  supposed.  It  is  full  of 
practical  instruction.  The  authors  seem  to 
have  gleaned  the  very  best  thoughts  that  have 
ever  been  uttered  upon  the  subjects  treated 
therein.  Those  who  study  these  subjects 
carefully,  will  find  that  they  have  entered 
upon  a  path  that  truly  leads  to  the  King's 
highway  of  knowledge  and  holiness.  The 
style  is  exceptional ;  the  price  reasonable, 
and  those  who  purchase  will  find  therein  a 
treasure-house  of  things  new  and  old." 


Rev.  J.  F.  Forbes,  Pastor  Cong'l  Churo-h, 
Warren,  Mass.,  says ; 

"  The  authors  of  '  The  Royal  Path  of  Life  ' 
have  gleaned  the  choicest  thoughts  from  a 
large  range  of  standard  writers,  and  woven 
them  together  in  114  essays,  each  complete 
in  itself.  This  compilation  does  them  great 
credit.  I  can  recommend. the  book  to  evesy 
household." 


From  the  Rt.  Rev.  P.  T.  O'Reilly, 
Bishop  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church 
at  Springfield,  Mass. 

"I  have  a  copy  of 4  The  Royal  Path  of  Life* 
and  after  a  very  careful  examination,  do 
cheerfully  commend  it  to  every  household" 


Rev.  A.  B.  Kendig,  D.  D.,  Pastor  Trinity 
M.  E.  Church,  Worcester,  Mass.,  says: 

"  I  can  endorse  the  recommendations  given 
1  The  Royal  Path  of  Life  '  by  other  distin- 
guished clergymen,  and  if  it  shall  divert  for 
one  hout  the  attention  of  the  young  and  old 
from  those  poisonous  streams,  from  which 
they  drink  disease  and  death,  it  will  prove  a 
blessing." 


Professor  Thos.  O-  Summers,  D.D., 
of    Vanderbilt    University,  for 
many  years  Editor  of  the  "  Nash- 
ville Christian  Advocate,"  says: 
"  We  have  examined  *  The  Royal  Path  of 
Life '  pretty  closely,  and  consider  it  a  valuable 
work.    It  describes  the  domestic  relations,  the 
pursuits  of  life,  morals  and  religion,  virtues 
and  vices,  in  a  very  engaging  manner.    It  is 
«  mosaic,  ingeniously  wrought,  comprising 
thoughts  and  extracts  from  all  sources.  We 
wish  every  young  person  would  read  and 
ponder  the  sections  on  Farm  Life,  Matrimony, 
Courtship,  Prayer,  Luck  and  Pluck — indeed 
every  section  is  replete  with  words  of  wisdom, 
which,  being  followed,  will  lead  into  1  The 
Royal  Path  of  Life,'  ending  in  a  glorious  im- 
mortality."   

Professor  Aldine  S.  Kieffer,  Editor 
of  "  The  Musical  Million,"  Dayton, 
Va.,  says: 

"  I  have  given  '  The  Royal  Path  of  Life '  a 
somewhat  extended  examination,  and  feel  jus- 
tified in  adding  my  testimonial  to  that  of  others, 
in  pronouncing  it  a  valuable  work,  alike  for 
the  student  and  the  general  reader.  It  embraces 
a  variety  of  subjects,  all  of  which  are  treated 
in  a  masterly  manner.  Its  illustrations  are  very 
artistic.  It  is  one  of  those  books  which  will 
do  1  good  and  not  evil,'  and  as  such,  I  most 
heartily  recommend  it  to  the  public." 

Prederiok  Cline,  Gterman-Baptist 
Preacher  (Dunkard),  of  Rooking- 
ham  County,  Va.,  Says. 
"'The  Royal  Path  of  Life'  is  just  such  a 
book  as  I  have  been  wanting  for  some  time 
for  my  family,  and,  after  a  careful  examina- 
tion, believe  it  would  be  a  welcome  guest  in 
any  home  circle."   

Rev.  O.  R.  Hendrickson,  D.D.,  Pastor 
of  the  First  Baptist  Churoh,  Jack- 
son, Term.,  says: 

After  giving  *  The  Royal  Path  of  Life '  a 
careful  examination,  I  can  give  it  a  most 
hearty  commendation.  It  is  of  great  practi- 
cal value  to  the  young,  and  none  are  too  old 
to  profit  by  it.  The  essays  are  most  admira- 
bly written,  and  embody  the  most  important 
moral  truths.  No  more  valuable  book,  the 
Bible  excepted,  can  be  presented  by  parents  to 
their  sons  and  daughters  than  1  The  Royal 
Path  of  life:  " 


Dr.  S.  Henkel,  Editor  of  "Our 
Church  Paper,"  and  Pastor  of  the 
Emanuel  Lutheran  Church,  New 
Market,  Va.,  says: 

"  We  had  occasion  to  examine  to  a  consi- 
derable extent  the  work  entitled  '  The  Royal 
Path  of  Life,'  and  found  it  a  work  admirably 
adapted  to  the  object  for  which  it  is  designed. 
It  deals  in  a  very  easy,  simple,  wholesome  and 
instructive  manner  with  the  different  relations 
of  life.  Its  general  tenor  is  moral,  healthy, 
and  ennobling,  No  one  can  read  it  without 
benefit  or  profit.  The  arrangement  of  the  sub- 
jects of  which  it  treats  so  pleasantly,  is  natural 
and  good,  carrying  the  mind  and  affections 
along  by  degrees,  through  the  varied  stages 
and  relations  of  life.  There  is  so  much  good 
about  it  that  we  feel  as  if  there  should  be  a 
copy  in  every  household." 


Rev.  J.  P.  Kemper,  Pastor  of  the 
Baptist  Church,  Harrisonburg, 
Va.,  says: 

"  I  have  read,  carefully,  several  selections 
from  '  The  Royal  Path  of  Life,'  and  am  much 
pleased  with  the  work.  Its  tone  is  excellent 
and  pure,  its  instruction  valuable  and  much 
needed.  I  hope  it  may  accomplish  the  good 
for  which  it  is  so  well  adapted." 


J.  Newton  Fries,  Professor  of  Latin 
and  Greek,  in  Shenandoah  Sem- 
inary, Dayton,  Va.,  says: 
"  After  having  examined  '  The  Royal  Path 
of  Life,'  I  would  say,  unhesitatingly,  that  it  is 
a  book  worthy  of  the  careful  perusal  of  every 
individual,  young  or  old.    Treating  on  a  vari- 
ety of  subjects,  as  it  does,  only  the  gems  of 
thought  have  been  presented,  in  a  manner  at 
once  pleasing  and  instructive.    The  moral 
tone  of  the  book  is,  undoubtedly,  of  a  high 
order,  yet  without  presenting  sectarian  views 
in  any  particular." 

Rev.  J.  W.  Bledsoe,  Pastor  of  the 
M.  E.  Church  South,  Charlottes- 
ville, Va.,  says: 

"  Having  read,  with  interest,  '  The  Roval 
Path  of  Life,'  it  affords  me  pleasure  to  recom- 
mend it.  Its  tone  and  spirit  are  such  as  will 
be  readily  approved,  and  its  suggestive  value 
will  commend  itself  to  every  thoughtful  and 
intelligent  reader  " 


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